Silent Echoes
by Ratany
Summary: Bruce considered firing Terry after discovering the nine year old blue-eyed, black-haired boy Batman had brought into his cave. It was a breach of trust and security and the boy a reminder of his past mistakes which had cost him Richard John Grayson.
1. History

Silent Echoes  
By Ratgirl01

Notes: This is set in the cartoon world, with the cartoon history. I brought in a lot of stuff from the comic world in here, but with my own twist. I own none of this. Heck, someone else probably owned the idea for this story before me too.

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Chapter 1

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"We would like to live as we once lived, but history will not permit it."  
-John Fitzgerald Kennedy

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One lone thought drove the boy down yet another endless street: find Batman. He moved in a methodical search pattern with the practiced ease of a tracker with decades of experience. He had picked these particular streets as the hunter who knows his prey. But in his mind it was all movements of desperation, a search for a whisper of a phantom in the never ending city.

The Gotham City skyline looked foreign to him. There were buildings where there had been room for birds to fly and open spaces where birds used to perch high above the streets. Something was wrong about the city, something had changed. But he had no time to consider what it was; _They_ were after him. He turned the corner and sped into an alley, stopping only when he blended in completely with the shadows. Bringing his legs to his chest, he rocked slowly back and forth. He tried to steel himself from the hot sting of tears as the images flashed in his mind. Deep feelings of rage, hope, despair and rapture had hit him all at once, overwhelming his senses and his mind. He had tried to sort out all the feelings and memories through a meditation technique he somehow knew, but a nine and a half year old boy was not meant to comprehend an adult's emotions. Sitting had only allowed all those emotions to catch him. He would have to move again soon despite the burn in his muscles.

He knew that he was supposed to remember why it was so urgent to talk to Batman, but he was overwhelmed with trying to deal with the death of his parents. The images of his parent's bodies and those odd flashes of emotion prevented him from thinking clearly. He assumed that he wanted Batman to save him from _Them_. Part of him hated the fact that he couldn't deal with _Them_ on his own, but he had learned to admit when he needed help. He knew he could trust Batman; Batman would make everything better. His last clear memory was of being saved by Batman. After running away from his adoptive home to find his parents' killer, he had messed up and would've drown if Batman hadn't shown up. He shook the tears from his eyes. He had no right to be crying, he had a mission to accomplish. If he could just reach the Bat Signal, everything would be fixed.

A high pitched laugh shook him out of his reverie. The sound sent chills down his spine, but it was more from the unwelcome memories it brought back than the noise itself: the Joker.

Five people dressed as clowns stepped out of the darkness. Some deeply buried part of himself had known that they had been watching him the last few minutes. Those instincts had heard their approach and had known their positions, but he had been stuck too deeply in the center of an emotional storm to acknowledge their presence. He sized them up, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses with a skill that he didn't realize he had. That feeling of wrong settled in again as he surveyed his assailants' clothing. The henchmen had always dressed funny, but their costumes were a copyright infringement the Joker would never let stand. The boy paused, again struck with the confusing but repulsive idea of the Joker he had never met.

The five stooges stood in front of him, taunting him, but he refused to pay attention to their words. Their weapons varied from chains to crowbars and he knew that if he listened to what they where saying, he would leave himself open for their attack. His body reacted without commands from his mind. He took a defensive position, which he could tell only fueled their mockery even more. They hadn't even finished their new series of jokes when he sprung on them.

Through a series of leaps, flips and kicks, he had taken out the clown nearest to him, the one who had been wielding a lead pipe. When it clanked down to the ground, it broke the silence that had fallen.

He flashed them a quick grin and suppressed the urge to say the corny line that had popped into his head. Then he was all business again as they surrounded him.

Fortunately, the gang hadn't learned to attack as a team, which left many easy openings for someone of his size, skill, and agility. He quickly downed three more clowns and turned on his final opponent. The man was massively enormous. Craning his neck back to see the face of the gang member, he could tell that, although there was a smile painted on it, the man didn't seem to be happy. Clowns were supposed to make children laugh, he was sure of that.

His attacks only seemed to amuse his enemy, as all his punches or kicks had no effect on the clown who simply backhanded the boy into a trash can. Ignoring the pain as much as possible, he knew he needed a plan B. If he couldn't get out of this alley, he could never warn Batman about _Them_ He watched as the brute started to charge him, with the hopes of slamming him into the brick wall, but instead he ran towards the wall as well. Timing the maneuver perfectly, he managed to run up the wall and flip over his attacker's head. He had no time to celebrate his perfect landing as he sped towards the mouth of the alley. A loud crashing sound echoed from behind him, but didn't stop to see what was what until after he had escaped the alley.

He saw a set of pointy ear on the other side of his assailant. He almost shouted Batman's name in relief. But the boy's smile faded when he noticed that it wasn't Batman, but some sort of impostor. This not-Batman was completely covered in black with a large red bat on his chest. There was no cape and not-Batman had a strange new arsenal of toys.

He watched in awe of the fight, which didn't take very long. As he stood in shock as not-Batman approached him and knelt down in front of him. This wasn't right. Of all the odd things the boy had noticed, this was the most wrong. This wasn't the man who had saved him. He needed Bruce.

"Are you all right?" not-Batman asked him.

His eyes grew as wide as saucers, but instead of answering not-Batman's question he burst into tears and started to pound on the red bat on the black suit. "You're not Batman," he chanted through his hiccups. He could feel not-Batman trying to control his fists, but he didn't care. All those memory flashes and visions of his parents' deaths had caught up to him along with the knowledge that _They_ were still after him and now there was no one to help him.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up he could feel himself moving. Opening his eyes, he took in his surroundings. There were gadgets everywhere, blinking lights and levers every which way he looked. Sitting up slowly, he was startled to hear a question. "Sleep okay?" He looked towards where the voice had come to see the Batman impostor behind what was presumably the wheel. Hesitantly, he nodded. He had slept soundly for the first time since forever without the dream.

Once he woke up, all he could remember of the dream was the black hair man in his late twenties with the piercing blue eyes. The man was surrounded by two figures in red cloaks with white hoods, but he could never make out their faces. Something always happened to the man, something that usually woke him up screaming.

But he felt safe here with the not-Batman. Safe enough to think about the dream even when he hadn't had it. Safe enough to almost trust the not-Batman.

Studying the controls, he almost missed Batman's next question. "So what's your name kid?"

He turned his gaze off the panels and to Batman's face. He wasn't supposed to just give his name away, but maybe this person knew what happened to Bruce. If he could just test this new not-Batman, he could be sure which side he was on. "My name's Richard John Grayson," he stated proudly. "But everyone calls me Dick."

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Terry McGinnis should've called in sick. Not that it would've done any good, but at least then he could console himself with the fact he had tried to avoid his night. His finals were next week, he missed spending the evening with his younger brother Matt because of some costumed freak threatening to blow up the city, and to end the night he was bringing someone to the Batcave who claimed to be the ward of his boss. A ward which was about fifty years too young.

Max had been nice enough to quiz Terry about his English Literature authors while he made his rounds until the Jokerz caught his eye. Barely giving Max any explanation, Terry had dropped out of the Batmobile and landed on the roof of one of buildings next to the alley. He was going to intervene when he noticed the still forms of four other Jokerz lying in the alley. The boy didn't seem to need much help as he ran towards the wall and flip over his attacker's head. Terry waited long enough to see the boy land and run off before he jumped from the roof and landed on the Jokerz member.

Batman had enjoyed the physical sensation of handing out a thorough beating before finally finishing the clown off with an electric Batarang. He hadn't been in a forgiving mood, even though saving the boy helped ease his knot of guilt over Matt.

He hadn't expected to be attacked when he asked the kid if he was all right. He was looking for the boy to be impressed or thankful, but not hysterical. The accusation that he wasn't Batman was still a raw point and more upsetting than he allowed himself to show. Still, he was more affected by the child's fit than his words. He was finally able to escape the boy's assault by catching his flailing arms in one hand and pulling the kid towards him with the other. He held onto the kid until he fell asleep. The boy was so small, just like Matt. Terry knew that he had to make the missed night up with his brother.

Unsure of what to do with the sleeping child, Terry had decided to bring him with on his rounds. The kid looked so peaceful as he slept; Terry couldn't bring himself to wake the boy. Wayne had only grunted when Terry explained why the boy was on patrol with him, which he took as a sign of approval. As long as the boy slept in the Batmobile, no harm would come to him and Terry could take him home when he awoke.

Wayne had just signaled the end of the night's patrol when the boy woke up. Terry noticed the dazed expression as the boy tried to take in the Batmobile. A half smile took over his face, he had probably had the same expression when he first got into the seat. He tried to make small talk, but it was obvious the boy wasn't in the mood. 'Duh, McGinnis, if you were ten, attacked by the Jokerz, and had assaulted Batman only to wake up in the Batmobile you wouldn't be that talkative either.' He needed a name to go with a home, but he hadn't expected to hear Dick Grayson.

'Get a grip, McGinnis, it's probably just his kid or something, Richard Jr. or a completely different strand of Graysons altogether.' The next question brought forth a feeling of foreboding. "So, where do you live Dick Grayson?"

There was a pause as Dick's breath hitched. "Wayne Manor. Don't tell Bruce that I went out. The last time I went out he had to save me and I promised I would wait until he said I was ready." His voice fell into remorseful whisper. "I didn't mean to go out, I don't even know how I got out of the manor. Honest."

The tears forming around the cerulean blue eyes ripped at Terry's heart. "Don't you worry about Bruce Wayne, I'll talk to him."

A stifled giggle assured Terry that the boy knew Wayne. "You don't know Bruce very well. There's no talking to Bruce; he makes the rules."

Smiling at the truth said in such a sing-song voice, Terry wondered what it would've been like for Dick Grayson growing up with Wayne. He shook his head, things might have been different for Wayne so many years and heart breaks ago.

Five minutes and many subtle questions later, Terry realized he had explained far more about himself and the technology in his suit than he should've. All of his questions remained unanswered though, as each one had been redirected or answered generically with no substantial information. He needed answers about the past and who the boy was supposed to be, but his options were limited.

Terry was tempted only for a second to see the Commissioner. Barbara Gordon would know about Richard, but she probably would close the conversation before it started. Besides, there were unanswerable questions if her husband was around. This one had to be taken to Wayne. He promised Dick that he would talk to the old man anyway. The lecture on this stunt would be immense; bringing a civilian into the Batcave certainly wouldn't get him any brownie points. Then, of course, there was a possibility of the whole thing being a trap. Yes, he could certainly see his wings being clipped on this one. 'What have you gotten yourself into this time McGinnis?'

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He had been told by not-Batman to stay in the car. But since the order hadn't been given by Batman or in the voice, Dick found little guilt in leaving the Batmobile and entering further into the cave.

Drawn through the museum part of the cave, Dick passed the Harley Quinn uniform and Mr. Freeze's gun and headed towards where the bat family's costumes were kept. He stopped in front of the Nightwing costume and slid his hand along the glass casing. Bits of memories came to him faster than he could absorb, but he could make out some of them.

The first time Robin had officially flown. The freedom of swinging through the city. The responsibility of watching the city himself. The adrenaline rush of fighting a bad guy.

A fight. A flash of red hair and fiery temper. His glaze drifted to Batgirl's costume then settled again on the midnight blue symbol behind the glass.

A new identity, one he could reclaim him in. A feeling that he needed to move on get out of Batman's shadow. The need to leave Gotham all together.

An opportunity. Trust. Hope. Betrayal from the one person he never expected in a way he had always known. An explosion.

A princess. A quest, a war, a complete new life and purpose. Tamaran. Leaving everything he had built there without saying goodbye when he found an opportunity to make it home. He thought he had been gone only three years – it had been there, but thirty-five in Gotham. A need to go back to the manor, to make things right before it was too late.

_Them_, a mistake in the fight, a sense of failure, the Confessor. The ceremony. Waking up, remembering his parents, almost remembering he wasn't supposed to be a child. The escape and search for Batman.

These revelations where still too much. Trying to process what had been for him, almost eighteen years worth of memories in minutes weakened him. He collapsed to his knees waiting for the memories to fade as they always did. As much as he wanted them gone, he was always afraid he would lose them forever. He couldn't face those thoughts. His mind slowly locked the memories down again and he knew that he wouldn't remember anything beyond Zucco for a time. The thought put him at an unstable ease, until he looked up towards a set of dull blue eyes piercing through his soul. Dick looked down ashamed. Even though Bruce hadn't given the order, he had still disobeyed one. He didn't need Batman to think his future partner couldn't follow orders. That is, if Bruce still wanted a screw up like him.

He caught a glimpse of something in Bruce's eye. It was unidentifiable to the kneeling boy, but he knew he had seen it before. Bruce looked old, way too old, but it didn't matter to Dick; he could tell that it was Bruce just by the presence in the room. Looking at Bruce's eyes caused his neck to cramp, so he broke the silence. His voice quivered, but he was hopeful. "Bruce?"

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	2. Memory

Chapter 2

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"As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape."  
-John Lancaster Spalding

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The gunshots were still echoing in his head when he woke up. Bruce clamped his eyes shut and waited until the reverberating noise died down to a whisper. It was almost like a calling, a constant reminder of his failings that he could not let go. To him, healing, like most luxuries of the soul, was too high a price for him to pay. Healing would involve letting go of his pain and his life's mission, and Bruce had resolved to let nothing interfere with keeping Gotham safe long ago.

He had broken that promise to himself. Three times to be exact. He should've known better after the first time; in fact, he never should've broken his promise. It showed that he had a weakness and one's fragility is always exploited and twisted to cause grief. His philosophy had never forsaken him, but he failed his perfect life standards three times and was not willing to be burned again.

Terry would be back soon. Bruce briefly considered the boy he was determined not to allow to become his forth Achilles heel. While Terry was brash, foolish, and rebellious, he also had the skills and shared the mission. A mission that had once been more of a dream shared with three other people, leaving three puckered scars on Bruce's soul.

The kid had spirit, it had his idea to become Batman. Terry stole the suit without Bruce condoning it - there was no way that Bruce could've twisted Terry's will. _Terry_ wanted it, not Bruce, but Bruce couldn't bring himself to examine their arrangement too closely in case he could no longer tell when he was manipulating someone.

Bruce didn't have time for self doubt or pity. Locking his insecurities in the back of his mind, he concentrated on Batman's random good deed of the evening. After stopping two muggings, one robbery and a bomber, Terry still found time to return a child to his home. Maybe Terry understood the role of Batman after all.

While screeching tires no longer announced the entrance of the Batmobile, Bruce still could hear it's approach. It had been a late night for Batman and Terry had missed his time with his brother. Alfred would've given Bruce one of his looks for letting duty come before family, but he wouldn't have said anything. He never had verbally lectured Bruce when it came to protecting Gotham, but he was always there to keep Bruce in line. Alfred would've wanted Bruce to give Terry a night off, as long as there were no psychos out. But Alfred wasn't here and Terry would soon have to learn the sacrifices Batman had to make, and that included spending time with ten year old brothers.

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Somewhere between the car and the command center, Terry remembered he was going to be facing the man who had defeated such criminals as Bane, Killer Croc and the Joker with only his wits, some Batarangs, and a Kevlar suit. He couldn't remember a time when he was more desperate for an army of androids to come after him because of a bounty on his head. Of course, Gotham had never slept quieter.

Leaving Dick in the Batmobile had been a necessity. If there was one thing that Terry had learned about Wayne was that the man hated surprises.

Terry removed his mask as he walked towards Ace and Wayne. He had to face this decision as Terry McGinnis, not as Batman for two reasons. The first was that it would look more forceful without a mask to hide behind and the second was he didn't want Batman to take the blame for this. Terry never had much of a problem with "McGinnis" and "Batman" coinciding, and he wanted to keep it that way. It was obvious what happened when the Batman persona became the dominant identity and the concept frightened Terry more than one of Blight's or Shriek's schemes ever would.

Trying to approach the computers naturally, Terry doubted he would succeed at tricking Wayne. It was difficult to do when he was dealing with someone who knew seven ways to tell if someone was lying, and had probably invented some of his own along the way. If he couldn't deceive Wayne, that meant that he had to tell him what happened, straight away. Unfortunately, Wayne didn't give him the opportunity.

"I want to review your performance tonight."

If Terry hadn't been so worried about keeping on Wayne's good side, he would've groaned. He hadn't worked in the cave long, but Terry already spoke "Bruce." Roughly translated it meant that he was going to get home far later than curfew and would most likely be grounded by his mother. The exact translation was worse: _It could've been accomplished better if you had done it like this, my way. If I had been out there tonight, things would've been executed quicker, more efficiently and with less bruises_.

Dealing with Wayne was never easy, but understanding that what Wayne said wasn't out of malice towards him was harder for Terry. He had forced himself into Wayne's life, and while he wasn't afraid to push the older man, he knew any of Wayne's social graces had long been used up. He had tried to be light-hearted through everything, but sometimes Wayne would still manage to make being Batman a chore.

'Fear is the mind-killer, McGinnis,' he lectured himself as he interrupted the speech on how the cloaking device didn't make him completely invisible. "Um, sir, what I really think we need to talk about it that boy I rescued." Terry tried to gauge the elder Batman's reaction.

"Oh?"

Leave it to Wayne to show no physical emotion outside the clenched jaw. "Well, you see after I had helped him, he fell asleep and I couldn't just leave him in the alley."

"So you said before."

"I was just going to take him to his house when he woke up and-"

"And?"

Terry was suddenly glad that they hadn't been anywhere near the cliffs of the cave. He knew about Batman's unique way of getting the information he needed and could see clearly why it had been effective. "And when the child woke up-"

Ace's ears perked up the same time that Wayne cocked his head, listening for a repeat of the noise. 'Please be because of some stray bat . . .' Terry prayed, not really considering the words in his head. He knew he couldn't stop Bruce from investigating the sound, but he had to cushion the discovery.

". . . I brought him here." He was too late though. Wayne had already seen the boy in a pile in front of the old Nightwing costume. Bruce's utter stillness was worse than any lecture that Terry could've dreamed the man had given him. Maybe dangling headfirst over a cliff wasn't such a bad alternative after all.

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Terry had pulled some idiotic stunts since he had earned the mantle of Batman, but this one had shocked even Bruce. The teen had dared to bring a civilian in the Batcave. The notion shouldn't have even crossed his mind. There was more at stake here than just his and Terry's identities. Reflexively, Bruce considered banning Terry from the Batcave; he did not tolerate insubordination. But Gotham needed her protector, and Terry had done a good job until this. _This_ would have to be dealt with immediately, starting with the boy on the ground.

Though mulling over Terry's actions, Bruce's keen senses had started to carefully assess the boy's condition. The angle which the boy was holding his head prevented Bruce from seeing his face, but it was obvious that he was young and had been on the streets. His matted hair stuck to the back of his neck and his oversized clothes were torn, but he could tell that the boy hadn't been on his own for too long. Despite the dirt, he still looked relatively healthy. His athletic build was well disguised to someone who didn't know what they were looking for. It was apparent the boy either had recently started living on the streets or he had found a sufficient supply of food.

Terry fidgeted, something Bruce hadn't seen the teen do in a long time. Clearly the teen needed more training in hiding his emotions. He had fallen quiet after his failed attempt to explain anything. The next lesson Terry would have to repeat was on timing –- if there were any more training sessions.

Bruce had known that something was bothering Terry since he walked in. He was almost glad to be interrupted during the stealth speech. Like so many other things, it had been another obstacle that Bruce had driven between himself and his second family: another criticism to push them further into the void. To Bruce's regret, it had worked.

Bruce's world plummeted as the boy looked up at him with eyes that reminded him of looking into the sky on the first day of spring. Time hadn't erased his memory of that reassured smile which took over the boy's face upon seeing Bruce. That voice, that hair, it couldn't be the same person, but somehow it was.

But it wasn't, it couldn't be; Bruce wouldn't let them be the same person. Spinning on one heel, Bruce walked towards the stairs without saying a word. Behind him, he could hear Terry talking to the boy in a reassuring voice, but Bruce didn't pay attention to the words. He needed to begin the safety protocols for a security breach. He needed to contain the threat and prepare to abandon his "Bruce Wayne" persona and step into a contingency life. He needed to tighten security for a full assault on the cave.

He needed to escape, to be anywhere but near the boy.

Terry stopped him near the top of the steps. "What's your problem?"

"You know perfectly well what my problem is."

"What was I supposed to do, leave him out there? He claimed to be Richard Grayson, said he lived in Wayne Manor."

"And you bring everyone who knows about my former ward into the Batcave now?"

"No, it's-"

"Did you even think before you brought him here? He could be a plant, quite literally. You just brought our enemies straight to us."

"Or I could have brought your great grandson to meet you or even your son from a different dimension or something. Look, I'm not pretending to know who this kid really is. I couldn't even begin to explain how he got to be only nine if he is whom he claims to be, but what I do see is someone who needs our help."

"You didn't know the situation, you didn't properly weigh the risks, and you did not ask permission. You do not make decisions that affected more than just you without consulting the rest of the people involved."

"You say that, but what you mean is I can't do anything without consulting you. Would you have believed me if I told you whom I found? And I didn't know this wasn't a trap; it was instinct."

"Your instincts will one day compromise everything we have worked for."

"You showed me what instincts were and then you taught me to listen to them. I trust in your ability to teach me and that forces me to trust in myself. I thought the trust went both ways, but I guess I was wrong. I should've consulted with you first, yes, fine. I can accept the responsibility for that, but don't turn your back on someone who needs you until you have proof that he is a deranged clone or something. Not everyone in the world is against you Mr. Wayne, and not every situation needs you controlling it. I'm going to show _Dick _where he can get cleaned up. You could be helpful and find some new clothes for him, I'm sure you have clothes somewhere that could fit him."

Bruce waited as Terry stormed down the steps back towards where the boy was sitting with Ace. Making his decision, he finish ascending the steps and shut the passage behind him.

**.:BB:.**


	3. Life

Chapter 3

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"The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it."  
-W. M. Lewis

**.:BB:.**

Terry bounced out of bed. From the floor, he chose to phrase it as such, because in truth, he had been bounced out of his bed by his little brother. Matt didn't care about late night jobs or impending exams. He was young enough to still think Saturdays started with the sunrise, not in the afternoon. When Matt listed his plans for the day, Terry was too exhausted and guilt ridden to argue. Agreeing to watch Matt had seemed like a great mother-approved way of procrastinating studying a week ago, but as Matt pulled him half asleep to breakfast, Terry began to question his earlier logic.

He brought his books to the arcade anyway. Bruce had been telling him to work his multitasking skills. Watching the brat and trying to learn history seemed to fit. Yet Terry found it was impossible to study about Alger Hiss' trial when he couldn't forgive himself for leaving Dick alone in the cave with Wayne the previous night. Terry had managed to slink into his home without his family being any the wiser so the secret was still safe. But in the morning light, the secret seemed less important than the health and safety of the boy, even if Ace had taken a protective stance. His worry for Wayne was secondary. Even though if Wayne ever discovered the order of Terry's priority he would be finished, Terry wasn't in the mood to care.

After showing Dick where the showers were in the cave, a task that was completely unnecessary, Terry had found some sheets and clothes in Dick's size left in the cave; there had been no sign of Wayne. But knowing Wayne, there were cameras set up all around the cave, and he wouldn't be sleeping at all that night.

Ace had opted to stay with Dick. Not remembering the last time Ace had taken a liking to someone upon first meeting them, Terry was forced to leave the two alone so he could at least have a decent alibi with his mother. As no one was answering the phone at Wayne's, the only reassurance that everything was all right was there were no dead bodies on the news matching either Dick's or Wayne's descriptions.

When Matt had made his way through half of Terry's latest paycheck and Terry had discovered that the Hiss trail had something to do with Communism, it was finally time to leave. Terry's victory was cut short when he realized it wasn't even late enough in the day to get lunch. He still had a whole day of dealing with the squirt and was no closer to studying than cracking open his textbook.

Slumping down under a nearby tree, Terry unleashed his brother in the park. Terry grabbed his backpack and pondered on whose bright idea it was to include 100 years of history on one test. 'Whoever it was should be forced to write up a study aide at least,' he thought as he tried to stare down the picture of Fidel Castro and failed miserably. He sighed and forced himself to look at the materials instead of beating his head against the tree.

**.:BB:.**

A sticky tongue saved Dick from watching his parents fall again. Child services wouldn't consider waking up in a cave with a dog panting over them safe, but to Dick, the cave was home and the dog's breath smelled better than his childhood elephants'. The familiarity of the place and Ace's steady breathing soon melted any remnant of the dream.

Dick scratched behind Ace's ears, savoring the feeling that he had been protected that night. The two were guided through the dim light to the opposite end of the room where a silhouette of Bruce was standing. He looked worn to Dick, like he hadn't slept at all. Knowing he was the cause of Bruce's exhaustion, Dick promised himself not to ask anything else of his mentor.

Bruce wasn't even slightly distracted from his task by the high pitched whine the heavy chair made as Dick adjusted it so it was across from the older man. Even after climbing into the chair, Dick found he had to kneel on the seat and prop himself up with his elbows on the counter to get a decent view.

The counter was cluttered with beakers, notes and equipment, but it was all precisely organized with the names of the chemicals that Dick couldn't even imagine how to enunciate written in black block letters. Looking past the junk, Dick watched Bruce's steady hands as he combined two chemicals and studied them intensely. Unsure of how to continue their earlier conversation the night before, Dick briefly settled for the peace of the moment.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Research."

"Oh." Disappointment seeped deeply into the word. After what seemed like an eternity, Dick noticed he was starving. Not wanting to distract Bruce from his project, Dick tried to will his stomach silent, but his stomach was louder than his mind. The kitchen called Dick from the mansion and since Bruce didn't seem to notice when he hopped down from the chair, he saw no reason to deny the kitchen's decree.

He had hoped that Ace would accompany him, but his friend had plopped himself down with his head across Bruce's feet and seemed uninterested in moving. As he climbed towards the entrance, Dick's full attention was dedicated to seeing how many steps he could get up at one time. Without using any flips or tricks, Dick could almost make it up four when he bumped into somebody coming down the steps.

Easily catching his balance before the other person could even reach for his shoulder, Dick stared up at the woman who had blocked his path. Dick didn't miss the look of shock on her face before she covered it with a slight smile.

"Going somewhere, munchkin?" The words were said playfully, but they couldn't cover the edge in her voice. Somehow, Dick knew that voice should be associated more with laughter than the acidity it carried now.

Although he had instantly liked the woman with the short white hair and the trench coat, Dick couldn't help but pout out his lower lip and cross his arm defiantly at the name of "munchkin." He tried to do his best Batman impersonation to prove that he was too old to be considered for such a childish name. "Upstairs."

Her raised eyebrow established that she wasn't impressed with Dick's efforts. He resolved to spend sometime staring at the mirror to impress her next time; for some reason he couldn't clench he jaw tight enough to gain the desired effect in the one word. Or maybe it had something to do with the vocal chords, he would have to compare the vibration of Bruce's throat next time he spoke with _the voice_ to Bruce's normal pulsation.

With no alternative to accepting his defeat, Dick swung his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. "To the kitchen. I was hungry," he admitted.

"We'll see what we can do about that – after I talk to Bruce."

He sighed and allowed her to guide him back down the steps. Knowing grownup conversations, he wouldn't get to eat until he was thirty and _old_.

The theory was only partially correct; it did take forever, but he wasn't any older, not really. Dick had known better than to listen to their conversation, but he couldn't help but listen to the murmur of the woman's voice as it drifted to his ears. He struggled to place her. It seemed like they had known each other all their lives, but he didn't understand their connection. Like everything else, it was buried inside his mind; but unlike the other memories, he felt he was fighting himself, instead of the white-hooded men, to remember.

It was another mystery that would have to wait to be solved as Bruce and the lady came back so Bruce could make introductions. "Richard, I would like you to meet Commissioner Barbara Gordon."

Richard hadn't been called 'Dick' yet by Bruce. The man seemed to be avoiding the name like the plague, but if Dick dwelled on every strange thing that Bruce did, there would be no time to eat.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Gordon. Everybody calls me Dick," he informed her as he offered her his hand.

"Okay Dick, then I'm Barbara." As she firmly clasped his hand in a friendly manner, Dick felt like he had been shot. It was his clearest vision yet and the only one he had seen so far in first person. He was with Batgirl, perched on some gargoyles atop a building. Her red hair flowed freely in the night breeze as her giggle penetrated through the car horns below. "Robin, I swear if you do one more bad William Shatner impersonation I will push you off this roof!" The threat seemed hollow even after she had regained control of her facial features.

"But . . . Batgirl," he began, throwing in dramatic pauses and overzealous arm motions. "All . . . William Shatner . . . impersonations are-"

She would've caught him more off guard if she hadn't included the battle cry when she lunged for him. But instead, her arms grasped air as he dived gracefully off the gargoyle's head and continued his horrible impressions. "Beam me down . . . Scotty!"

Her cry of frustration was lost in the rush of air sweeping past his body. As the side of the building was lost in a blur, the details on the street became sharper. He could only clearly see what was directly in front of him as he allowed the rest of the world to grow dim so he became completely enthralled by his free fall. The adrenaline jolted his sense alive and he wondered if there was a time to ever feel more immortal than when facing the possibility of death.

Almost regrettably, Dick felt his body twist in the air and throw out a jump line to a nearby fire escape at the last possible second. Swinging in an arc around the building, he knew Batgirl would be in pursuit soon. The only way she could catch up with him now was if he let her, and then she would probably beat him up; he landed on a nearby ledge anyway and waited.

Dick, lost in the memory, never felt the hand on his shoulder or the worried calls of his name.

**.:BB:.**

He hadn't been expecting to be attacked from the left, although he should have know better than to let his guard down for a second. Swerving that direction, Terry managed to leap and block the offending object before it got past him. Tumbling out of his dive, Terry readied himself for the next attack. He had knocked out too many to give up now; only two of them remained. He hadn't found the right angle yet to get through their defenses, but the fate of the world rested on his shoulders and he hadn't failed yet. It was coming back at him, he was sure to get them this time, it was so close-

"McGinnis!"

Terry jumped at the sound of his name said inches from his face, almost instinctively punching a pair of twinkling green eyes. Drawing his hand back to instead massage the nape of his neck, Terry reassured himself that unlike his dream, the Berlin Wall hadn't fallen like a game of Brickles. With his head clear, Terry glanced over at the intruder and came face to face with Commissioner Barbara Gordon. "Someone was listening to one of Wayne's stealth tangents," he said almost bitterly.

"Well, it was a good thing too or we all would be arguing with Bruce right now."

Terry winced. Not expecting details to be out so soon, he didn't have a prepared speech. "He told you, huh?"

"Yes, although I think he's in as much shock as you are."

"Now that's something I need to see to believe. So how much info did he give up?"

"Just that you were trying to make introductions as quickly as possible. Then his usual Bruce answer, said with less words of course. I got most of the details from another source and my ears are still ringing from it."

"So you met the kid then?"

"Met him? Who do you think was designated baby-sitter for the day? He was up early and Bruce couldn't get any work done with Dick running around. That kid's got spunk, I'll grant him that. I wonder if I ever had that much energy when I was his age."

"I thought you looked a little worn around the edges."

"You're a real lady-charmer, you know that? Maybe it's not just your night job that prevents you from going out on dates."

For the second time that Saturday, Terry failed to glare someone down. "Fine, I'll admit it: I don't look that great today either. So you brought him here for the day?"

"We were at the zoo for awhile, he practically dragged me to the elephants. I stood there for an hour, worried that he was going to climb in there with them while learning more about elephants then I thought there was information on. The conversation kept turning back towards an elephant name Eleanor." The shining in Barbara's eyes was intensified when she laughed. "Did you know that Elephants will eat watermelon, or at least one named Zitka did. Crap, he's got me doing it now."

"So what do you think of Dick?"

"Great kid, hope he's not a plant or anything, figuratively or literally."

"You too with the plants? What I meant was: Do you believe that he is really your old friend Richard Grayson?"

"I've seen a lot of weird things since I was your age. I don't know if I would believe half the stuff I saw if it wasn't on file. I didn't know Dick until much after he started to fly so I'm not qualified to judge."

Puzzled by her sudden sullen attitude, Terry had to prompt her to continue. "But if you had to guess-"

"If I had to guess I'd say that Dick Grayson was a carefree, hyperactive boy who would know a lot about circus animals."

Terry was stunned by her ability to avoid questions, even though she seemed to find it annoying in Wayne. Their conversation had turned darker and Terry hated to spoil the first conversation that they had had where she seemed cheerful and relaxed with herself. "So tell me about Dick. All I know was that he was the ward of Bruce Wayne." Terry was rewarded with another smile as Barbara seemed to float back in time.

"He always put everyone else first. He was smart, smart-mouthed, flirtatious, and enthusiastic during the day, and the only thing different at night was the tights. He could make you laugh at yourself, forget your cares. No matter what you were doing or where you were, he had a bad joke and he wasn't afraid to tell it . . . and he called me an 'amateur' my first night out."

"Were you?"

The innocent 'who me?' look didn't fool Terry for a second. "Everything mechanical that he touched ran. Had a passion for motorcycles, used to pull the craziest stunts on them; I'm surprised he wasn't grounded from them. He never got around to building himself his hotrod. Was going to be a Goat, a jet-black GTO convertible, revamped of course. But there was a slightly more complex side to him.

"His goals were all set high, the need to prove his worth to Bruce when he was left behind drove him harder for so long. When I first took to the night, he was already living on campus and finding less time to help Bruce, but he still needed to be a part of Bruce's life and it was difficult on both of them. He certainly had a temper on him. That boy could flair up in a second and there was no stopping him. Could hold a grudge like nobody's business when it came to anyone threatening his family - or if the person was a member of his family. He couldn't easily forgive what he saw as betrayal."

Terry could tell her good mood was broken again. The wrong questions just always seemed to come out of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Hmm. That's one opinion. You know, you're a lot like him."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I doubt Bruce even thought of it when he hired you. You have the same black hair, blue eyes, rogue attitude . . . almost as if he was collecting carbon copies."

Barbara's final hushed comment would never make its way to Terry's ears. It was crushed by the rising cries of fear and helplessness that followed the rupture of gunfire. Terry didn't have to watch to see the mothers throwing their bodies over their children to protect them or observe their futile chaotic dash to find fictional cover. The stench of the discharged weapon, the echoes of the wounded and the feeling of dismay that blanketed the area told the story all too familiar.

Terry knew that many were probably already dead; he knew that Barbara had already pulled out her piece and had readied herself from the first sign of distress; he knew that more than just the Sierra Desert separated himself from Matt; he knew that the woman who would have to live with one less son could be his mother; and he knew there was nothing Batman could do.

**.:BB:.**


	4. Regret

Chapter 4

**.:BB:.**

"Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so."  
-David Grayson

**.:BB:.**

The transition between the two shifting planes of his reality had become a comfortable, natural motion. He was living both his life and someone else's life, one that was mostly revolved around Batgirl and Robin. None of the memories were vivid as the one he had slid into when he first shook Barbra's hand, but Dick didn't mind.

He had still feel the wind whipping through his hair and hear the snapping of his cape as it billowed behind him when he realized he hadn't let go of Barbara's hand and was staring into space. Ignoring the worried glance between Barbara and Bruce, he took advantage of his grip and began pulling her towards the staircase. She stumbled at first, but after a quick good-bye over her shoulder to Bruce, she willingly followed him.

Their conversation was carefree and leisurely, touching frivolous topics. He was proud to see that Barbara seemed amazed at his ability to talk about anything, especially when the topic had turned to Bruce. Even though she knew about the cave, he made sure not to break any of the rules and talk about what went on there. He did make one slight exception when it came to his arrival the day before, but, much to his relief, she promised to keep his blunder a secret.

The comfortable pauses between their discussions were spent by Dick exploring the new world that had been revealed to him. Although the flashes only lasted around thirty seconds each, he fretted about Barbara noticing anything suspicious. He knew what happened to people when they went insane, it usually involved men white coats and needles. Dick mentally shuddered at the thought as more buildings raced by his window.

Any anxieties were forgotten after his first taste of chocolate chip pancakes. Eating breakfast forced him to give Barbara a moment of blissful silence before they headed to the Zoo. Given free reign over the map, Dick plotted a course to the elephants where he discovered her appalling lack of knowledge. He had to spend most of the time there explaining the basics, but all he really wanted to do was to let them roam free.

The park had been Dick's favorite place. While everything from buildings and cars had been upgraded, the park featured an old fashioned jungle gym. Even though he had been warned to keep a low profile on his gymnastic ability, the monkey bars offered him an indescribable freedom.

He had kept mostly to himself until another kid, who introduced himself as Matt, talked Dick into joining a game of Idiot Tag. The game itself had been a mass of confusion, but no one cared as the fun in the game was in the fear of being knocked out of one of the safety spots. He had been tagged "it" and was seconds away from catching the person without a partner when the game was disbanded because of the erupting sound of old submachine guns.

The skills he had honed from years past told him his first task was the most obvious: protect the innocents. While most of the other kids had abandoned spots where they had been playing, Dick noticed Matt was glued in place. Dick didn't have time to locate Barbara until after he had prodded Matt to take what little cover they could find behind a slide. While offering limited protection, the slide also inhibited Dick's view of the gunmen and of Barbara. She could use his help out there, but he couldn't leave Matt and he knew better than to jump into a situation without collecting all the facts.

Instructing his friend to follow behind him, Dick lead the way to some nearby bushes that circled around the park. Even though the two would have to go behind the perps, it was safer than waiting for the gunmen to find them. Matt's enthusiasm for the situation was a bit exasperating, but at least he didn't need to be coaxed into moving.

Any cracking twigs or rustling leaves because of their movement were covered by the fire of the weapon. They hadn't traveled far before coming across one of the gunmen who had wandered away from the rest of the pack. His back was to them and Dick decided to use that to his advantage. Having Matt launch a rock into the man, Dick swept the criminal's legs out from under him as he turned. Dick was on top of the man before he hit the ground, searching for the pressure point on the man's neck. Even disoriented, the man would've thrown Dick off of him unless Matt had joined in the fray. When the man had stopped struggling, the preteen team rolled him over and what Dick saw caught his breath in his throat.

In all his years of knowing him, Dick had never known Mr. Hercules to pick up a gun, not to mention use one. The image had distraught Dick so much, he failed to noticed the shadow creeping over them. He was too lost in denial to save himself, and complete missed Matt pushing him out of the way of the spraying bullets.

As he rolled out of the way, a strong hand picked Dick up by his wrist. His struggles stopped when he glanced into his assailant's blue eyes. It was the image of Bruce as Dick remembered: younger, black suit, black hair, red tie and - Dick looked again - a toothy grin? The distracting kick Matt provided to "Bruce's" shin allowed Dick to grab "Bruce's" lower arm with his free hand and propel his body over the arm, twisting it back.

With "'Bruce" down temporarily, and the gun kicked a safe distance away, Matt and Dick continued their trek towards the park exit until they were halted by a single gun shot. Spinning around, they watched "Bruce" drop his gun to the ground before he followed it. Barbara was almost knocked over by the two of them before she could lower her own gun.

The park was devoid of all sounds when Terry finally found the small group. While he was detained by his brother's enthusiastic tale of his heroic efforts and Barbara went to help the medics, Dick was surveying the area. The idea of someone being shot to death made his stomach turn and he tried to avoid looking at the bodies. They weren't his immediate concern. He was really looking for the faces of the gunmen and wished he hadn't.

Everyone he had ever trusted from Pop Haly to Alfred were tied up or unconscious. Dick's world shook on fragile foundations as he realized what had transpired. He knew none of it was real, but the mental knowledge didn't stop his body's reactions. The spinning park almost made his decent into darkness an improvement.

**.:BB:.**

The results wouldn't change, no matter how hard he wanted them to. They read the same thing over and over again, "exact match." He should've lost count of how many times he had rechecked the experiment, six, but Batman didn't work with negligence. Bruce rubbed his eyes wordlessly and blocked out Terry's stifled, pacing footsteps as he ran through the procedure again in his mind.

The pieces to the puzzle that shrouded the boy seemed to be snapping together, and Bruce did not like the picture they were forming. Terry's and Barbara descriptions of today's attack only confirmed the horrifying idea that had already started to develop in Bruce's mind: revenge. Richard had watched those closest to him betray him and die, even an adult who knew it was fake would have difficulty coping. Emotionally unstable people were more vulnerable to mental persuasions. By using images from Nightwing's personal past, someone was proving they knew his identity, and from there, it wasn't too hard to discover who the new Batman was.

But however important insuring he wouldn't have to force Terry to retire or step into a new identity was, it was not the most troubling aspect of the case.

Terry brought Bruce out of his funk by snatching the data from Bruce's hand. "I might have slept through most of my Biology classes, but I do know that even a clone's DNA scan would not exactly match like the two people you have here. The truth is written before you in your own handwriting and it still isn't enough. What do you keep looking for?"

"I'm looking at his telomeres," Bruce was forced to continue because of Terry's blank stare. "The end caps to our chromosomes. Each time our cells divide, these end caps get shortened until they become so frayed, the cell dies. It has been said that the fountain of youth lies in learning how to control a telomere's length. A clone's telomeres would be twice as long as the normal nine year old's, while Richard's is about three times as short."

"So that means . . ."

"That means that his body's cells are older than they are supposed to be. While he may look like a typical nine year old, his body is actually around twenty-seven years old."

"You know that if those test results are accurate, something must have happened to mess with his physical age. How do you know that this isn't some crazy side effect? Why can't he be your Dick Grayson?"

"For one thing, if you were to ignore the fact the boy is fifty years too young, Dick Grayson was born March 20, it's now June. There is no possible way he could be nine and a half years old, like he claims.

"So he embellished his age a little, all kids do that when they want to be older."

Bruce found Terry's amused smirk irritating. "By three months?"

"Three months isn't that long. Trust me, it will be September _way_ too soon."

"For my sake, I hope so."

"Oh haha, looks who's becoming a comedian at the expense of my summer vacation." Watching Terry's mood change in an instant was something Bruce hadn't become accustom to yet. The shift was blatantly written in his posture, his face, and even the slight bitterness in his voice. "I'm talking about that unconscious boy in the other room. There has got to be a better reason you doubt he's Dick, other than the wrong month thing," Terry clicked his tongue, "and the de-aged age thing too."

"Answer me this: How does my ward lose over fifty years of his life and wind up conveniently near you in an alley?" He winced when he said the words, as all his years of training and experience failed him. This was not how he had envisioned Dick's homecoming. Somehow, everything was supposed to fall into place with bunnies and rainbows, which was decidedly un-Bat, but everything Dick meant to the Bat. He didn't know why he believed it, but somehow it had gotten him through the first ten years of guilt. Then, fate decided to finally come for payment on the brief happy years that Bruce's lies had created, and he was once again sucked into the sticky blackness that had ruled his life for so long. He could no longer stand to hope for Dick to come back, but he never got around to making his ward's death official. If this really was the Richard 'Dick' John Grayson he had helped raise, Bruce was once again proven an insignificant substitute for a father; he had not welcomed his son back in quickly and unconditionally. "He gives no plausible excuse for his current state and the only memory he has of his thirty-five year absence is that he was on a planet called Tamaran for three years. He doesn't have an explanation as to why he would be there or where that solar system is-"

"Wait, how do you were he claims to have been or that he even claims to be nine and a half years old? You wouldn't even look at him while I was here before and you passed him off to Barbara right after he got up."

"I have my methods."

"You talked to him? After I left?"

It was disturbing how Terry seemed to wait for an answer. Bruce wasn't about to give Terry the satisfaction of knowing he was right. There had been too many similarities and Bruce's conscience hadn't let him rest. The conversation that Richard had tried to revive that morning was the one that Bruce had started once Terry had gone home. In spite of everything, Richard had been delighted to spend any second he could with the man whom he believed to be his mentor. Bruce had been told so little, but learned so much he had forced himself to do the DNA tests, to prove wrong what he knew was true. "It doesn't matter how I got the information, what matters is-"

"Yes it does matter, Bruce! You _spoke_ to him. Don't you see that all of this - the equipment, the tests, your discussion, your denial - verifies that you care? What aren't you telling me? What happened to Dick all those years ago to produce this effect on you?"

Bruce's tired eyes rested on the floor. He was so sick of avoiding the questions, so disgusted with the lies, but the truth hurt. He was still unwilling to relinquish the pain by admitting what actually happened – he should let Terry find out the same was Barbara had – but he was unable to stop the words that came to his lips. "Because, thirty-five years ago, I put Dick Grayson in a coma and he hasn't woken up since."

**.:BB:.**

Barbara spent the afternoon dreaming of a hot bath and a massage. Barbra hadn't minded watching the kid, it had been fun in an exhausting sort of way, but the park had been hell. She had to wrangle with the possibility of taking Bruce to the morgue, but not even that idea could compare with the her feelings when she shot Alfred. Shooting Bruce had been therapeutic, but she had barely held the gun steady on Alfred.

It wasn't him. He was dead, but the very idea of shooting Alfred made her shiver. The only thing that prevented her from going insane on the spot was knowing Alfred's name was being disgraced by the impostor. But her day wasn't over then. The world had seemed to go in slow motion as he fell, but she hadn't been close enough to catch Dick when he passed out. As he hit the grass, the world appeared to snap back into place. She was no longer helping load the injured into ambulances and any sign of a disturbance in the park was gone. Barbara had to dodge a ball flying towards her head before she could reach where Dick collapsed. Terry, Matt and herself were the only ones who didn't act like nothing had happened. Barbara wanted to get Dick back to the cave, so it was agreed that Terry should take Matt to his friend's house. Terry walked away trying to convince Matt it was a new virtual reality exposition.

Now, the conversation drifted to where Barbara sat in her vigil over Dick. She had almost choked when she had hear the word "coma." The phrase 'cease to exist" seemed to be a better description. Perhaps "knocked out of this realtiy", but she wasn't telling the story.

It occurred to her now that Dick had been the final stake driven between herself and Bruce's relationship, and Dick would've hated being used like that. When she finally broke through her naiveté to what really had happened to her ex-boyfriend, Barbara couldn't look at Bruce for what he'd done, for what he'd kept from her so long. Maybe he had done it for her sake. True, Bruce had never verbally claimed that Dick was dead, but he had allowed her to jump to that conclusion instead of admitting what had really happened. And worse, he had fooled her into thinking he had been coping. By the time Barbara had decided that she and Bruce needed to talk about the incident for the sake of their relationship, he had already convinced himself there was no future for them together. He pushed her out of his life, and Barbara realized that she couldn't wait for Bruce to come out of his slump. Her life had to forge ahead without him.

Meeting Sam Young officially closed the chapter of Batgirl's life and cut Barbara's ties to Bruce. Sam had been everything she needed without him knowing it. While the dream of cleaning up Gotham was the same, Sam went about it publicly – legally – and with the ability to vocalize his feelings. He had seemed like the answer to all her prayers for a more normal life. She never regretted her devotion towards her husband, but she had always wondered what might have happened between herself and Dick.

It had been a long, difficult five years after she and Dick had found out each other's identities. Dick would lash out at anything to do with his past as Robin, and the list included her. Things had begun to look better though after he and Bruce had talked. While none of the real issues were resolved, the two could remain civil in the same room, and Barbara had found herself spending more time with her old boyfriend. She had been willing to accept just his friendship at first, but she needed to know if he ever really believed that they could move ahead. Before knowing his answer, he had disappeared. Her searches for him seemed endless, but, for her own sake, she needed to let him go.

Barbara hadn't planned to latch onto Bruce, but he had surprisingly been there when she needed him. Starting to date seemed like the applicable thing to do. She was confused and he was the only one who made sense to her, the only one who knew what her nights were like, the only one who could share in her grief for Dick and for her father, but the two of them had too many different needs to be together.

Just thinking about the what ifs of Dick coming out of his "coma" even thirty years ago had begun to depress her. Destiny had made it obvious that the two of them could never be together in this life, between her being married and his current handicap, but it was comforting to dream that in another dimension, the two of them had labored on to have the perfect marriage with their 2.4 kids and a dog. She remembered someone had once told her that souls travel in groups. That in every new life the souls would find each other and no matter which order the persons would die in, no souls could be reborn without the rest of the group's travelers. Barbara was unsure to whether she believed in reincarnation or in an afterlife, but she knew that even though she couldn't have a relationship with Dick, their souls were intertwined in a way that could only be described as supernatural.

Her heart raced as she tried to calm Dick's spontaneous outburst. His little legs kicked at the blanket and clawed away from some invisible force. The duress of the dream began to even enwrap Barbara as she could only hold the boy and try to soothe his dream from the incubus that had conquered it. She wanted to know if his calls for Kory were out of fear of her or for her. Hopefully he could answer her questions once he calmed down.

She never let go of his hand, even when he shot up in bed, grasping her back with a death grip. His eyes searched wildly around the room, past where Bruce and Terry now stood watching him, to Barbara's face. His calm look that instantly followed appeared out of place compared to his earlier thrashing and the thin sheen of sweat that plastered his bangs to his forehead.

"Barbara?" She didn't recognize that she had stopped breathing when she heard how much older he sounded. "Geeze Barb, I've been hurt before. I swear, you're worse than Alfred."

"Dick?"

"Yes?"

"Are," she physically held herself back from hugging him, "are you sure you're all right?"

"If you mean other than the fact that I can't go on roller coasters anymore, then yeah, I'm good." Dick swung his legs over the edge of the bed and let them dangle for a second before sliding off. Barbara was lost somewhere between disbelief and delight. Leave it to Dick to joke about some dire situations like this.

"Dick, who's Kory?"

"Kory?"

"You were calling out her name a minute ago. You have no idea who she might be?"

He seemed to consider the name for a minute. "The name sounds familiar, but I can't come up with a face."

"That's okay, so what do you remember?"

"I remember falling unconscious for no particular reason, and for some reason I knew that no one was hurt in that park today. In fact I can remember this past week pretty well. The only thing that's kind of fuzzy is what happened between Bruce's failed attempt to kill me and my arrival back to Gotham like this." He stated his words as a fact, but Barbara could see the desired effect upon Bruce. Dick, on the other hand, didn't even glance over towards where Bruce was standing. He hadn't looked at Bruce again since he first woke up. Instead, he was walking around the room like nothing was wrong and time hadn't moved ahead, but back forty years, to the anger he had once worked through. "Since I have no idea how I've been, I have no idea how you've been. Tell me Barb, how is life treating you?"

"You knew the risks."

Barbara could've launched herself at Bruce for his interruption. 'Why did Dick have to bring that up? Why can't Bruce let the comment slide for just once? What is it that inhibited those two from just letting the past stay there for five minutes?' All she really wanted was to have a civilized conversation with an old friend and as soon as Dick responded, she knew that any hopes of that happening were dashed against the cave walls.

"Did I really? You sent me in there without telling me everything. Seems like the perfect way to get rid of your first protégé."

"You have no right to-"

"Speak out against your indiscretions? I know you Bruce. There was no way you would do a half-ass job when it came to research. You knew everything that was going on in that place and you chose not to tell me. Well, I hope you're happy, because look what _They_ have done to me now. I don't know why I thought you would help. I'm out of here."

All of Barbara's will power couldn't make Bruce grab Dick's arm as he stormed past. She felt mentally drained from the day and all she could do was watch Dick's retreating figure, knowing that he would hate her if she followed him.

**.:BB:.**


	5. Forgiveness

Chapter 5

**.:BB:.**

"Forgiveness is the answer to the child's dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, what is soiled is made clean again."  
-Dag Hammarskjöld

**.:BB:.**

"Some people never change." Bruce's sad remark was only supposed to be echoed through the cave, but this time it was interrupted by Barbara. Her sharp, underlining tone was not lost on Bruce's ears.

"Other people don't let them change."

"Meaning?"

"You know me better than that Bruce; you know yourself better too."

Bruce's cane handle would have shattered if his grip became any firmer. Motionless, Bruce's eyes met the former Batgirl's challenge. Barbara's words chased each other in a tireless circuit around the cave.

"See that you two are so alike that you can't be in the same room. That you are both so absorbed in your own problems that you never bother to worry about the other person's opinion." Bruce was sure she left a dramatic pause to drive him insane. "You began to tolerate each other again, before we lost him, but it never was the same. All you could talk about was your latest case and somehow I always ended up stuck in the middle. Alfred and Tim fared no better. We suffered because you two could never express your feelings and every time Dick ever came close to asking for forgiveness, you would always find someplace else to be."

"He shouldn't have been the one asking. I was the one who deserved his wrath; there was no one else for him to blame."

"Then you were doing exactly what he claimed you were doing, manipulating him. And worse, it wasn't for his own good, but because you were being selfish. Was the reason you wouldn't let him back really because he got too close? Because deep down you knew that if you guys forgave each other, you might be happy? And, of course, Batman couldn't show any emotions because that would take time away from his precious city and might just show he was human. Or was it because you couldn't function without brooding over your loses? What better way to remember that you couldn't save everyone than to not have been able to save your own son? Whatever the reason, you forced him away whenever he even came close to wanting to end this feud."

"He was the one who always walked out on our conversations."

"Yes, but you always knew exactly what to say to make him leave. Have you ever made an honest attempt to stop him? I bet you never once were the one who brought up the topic; you have always let Dick be the one to initiate those conversations."

"He knew the rules when he became Robin."

"Did he really? All the problems with training a _child_ sidekick aside, did you really think Dick would've grown up idolizing you had you always been such a bastard?"

"Barbara-"

"No. I know you changed; we all changed. And he did idolize you. I might've dated him, but you were still his priority. I might not have always appreciated him while he was pursuing me, and I will take the blame for that, but even on dates he would drop everything for you. And don't try to tell me it was for duty or Gotham, that boy did all that for you."

"Barbara-"

"And help me, I would drop everything on our dates too if some manic was running around the city. I tried to tell myself it was to help daddy or the citizens, but some part of it was always to impress Batman."

"Barbara-"

"The things you and I both did to that boy - the things we did after he was gone . . . Dick would've given his life for yours, even when he was completely pissed at you. You made him your first partner, you took his life, and what did you give him in return?"

"Barbara, you are out of line. You have no right to judge me."

"I'm not judging you. And you're right, I shouldn't be yelling. But this thing was never just between the two of you, it affected everyone else: Alfred, Tim, and now Terry. I'm not mad at you Bruce; I'm mad at this self-destruct sequence in your life."

The finality of her attack ate away at Bruce. The things she said he couldn't deny, worse she mixed her sins in with his. He knew her methods, it should not have affected him. Breaking the suspect down was a simple psychological move. Whether she learned it from her father, television or watching the Batman, it didn't matter. Bruce would've laughed at the irony of the situation if he still laughed, if he ever laughed. Whether they were aware of it or not, Dick, Barbara, and Tim had all absorbed some of his traits. Somehow, it had all backfired in the end.

It would've been easy to wallow in self-blame, but he had never wanted to take the easy route. There were so many things that he needed to ask that he could never articulate, even if she was standing just two feet away. 'Did all those things learned so many years ago really hold you back in life? Did you suffer through torture filled nights of self-doubt? How did you balance your life and your duties?' He had thought he had known the answers before. He was _supposed _to know the answers, but he had never before questioned whether they were right. But when he was finally ready to ask he looked up to find her gone, and Terry had disappeared some time ago.

Bruce descended into a chair beside the ever-vigilant Ace, the old cliché of man's best friend not lost on the dog. Somehow the two of them had faced the world and yet only Ace seemed content with his current surroundings. Fate had bonded them together by seemingly turning against them, but they had stuck it out, loyal to each other to a fault. The sound of shuffling papers stopped momentarily. 'Have I demanded too much? Did I really believe that I could earn their loyalty by saving their lives, or is there more to receiving a person's devotion than that?'

There was no need to review the documents that he sealed in the wrinkle free, brown envelope. He knew the papers inside and out. He had managed to write them, but he didn't know if he was strong enough to give them to their proper owner. On his first night ever out as Batman, he hadn't chosen to stop a random mugging or a heist. It was all or nothing; either he could put his years of training together to stop the drug ring, or he would never make it at all. It was still a mystery how he managed to sneak past Alfred the next day to get to work. The lies he told to people about the bruises and cuts had long since faded away. His cape had been neatly pressed the next evening, ready for his rounds. That first week he must've gotten laughed at as much as he had been as a child, but things had become better. Once again, Bruce was faced with an all or nothing life situation.

"What do you think Ace? Should I risk everything again just because of some lively boy?" The envelope seemed to glow brighter than the dingy memories haunting the cave. Meeting his friend's eyes, Ace's response was absolutely right.

**.:BB:.**

Anything had to be better than listening to them argue. Terry cringed as the words assaulted his ears even as he climbed the unending staircase back to the mansion. Those two seemed a lost cause, but there was one person who might give him answers. Even if Terry could find Dick in the mansion, which was vast beyond his fancy, he wasn't sure how to relate to the boy-man. Dick was practically transplanted from a different century with different ideals and values and people; Dick's life - where he mentally was in his life - was Terry's history test.

Grateful that the clock prevented any noise from the basement, Terry turned towards the hall only to be stopped when he noticed an extra head in the painting of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wayne. Dick had to have known Terry was watching him, yet he had not moved since Terry had come up the steps. Instead, he seemed transfixed in time along with Wayne's parents, as much of a painting as the portrait. Terry still lacked a plan. "Hey."

"Oh, so he sent you."

Terry wished he could reach for a sweater the room temperature had dropped so drastically. "No one sent me."

"That's what he wants you to think."

"Cut the crap, Grayson. You and I both know you were pushing it back there with Wayne He maybe hard to deal with at times, but he didn't deserve that."

"Don't go where you're not wanted. You have no idea what being raised by Bruce was like."

"Then tell me."

"Hn. The only sign that he even cared about me was the fact that he let me share in his deranged dream which involved me swinging through Gotham wearing a target sign. Don't tell me your father ever let you foolishly risk your life when you were ten."

"No, but since my father was killed, Wayne has been there for me and I've had to deal with what he's become since the incident when you disappeared."

"The incident? Is that what you call sending someone in a suicidal situation without warning these days? I guess I'm lucky he even remembered me."

"How clueless are you? Wayne certainly hasn't been running himself ragged for me lately."

"Oh yes, there is no better way to say 'I love you' than staying up all night to prove that someone is lying about their identity."

Dick was still facing the wall instead of Terry. The young Batman figured that he would get a better response discussing the problem with his psychology book than anyone in the house. Instead, he spun the young hero around. Terry almost pulled back when he saw Dick's dejected look. He had been expecting Wayne's set jaw and emotionless eyes, with nothing to visibly show that he cared about the situation.

"So what if Wayne didn't have the purest of motivations? Neither did you. Can you honestly say that you had everyone's best intentions in mind when you attacked Wayne like that? You claim to be Barbara's friend, and yet you stuck her in the middle of your petty argument without a second thought. You're so hung up on how you think he manipulated you a lifetime ago that you don't see that you pulled a classic Batman move on your own friend." If Terry had stopped when Dick suddenly looked like a broken ten-year-old boy who was incapable of defending himself, nothing would've been accomplished. Terry couldn't help but wonder if his words would've had the same effect if he was fighting someone in a twenty-eight year old body. Maybe all the world's problems could be solved if people once again had the ability to freely express their emotions. Then again, yelling at someone with watery blue puppy dog eyes was the hardest thing Terry had done. "You claim you never cared about Wayne, so why did you come back? When you forgot about your animosity towards Wayne, your first instinct was to turn to him for protection. You might have lost those years to talk, but you obviously would've made no progress during that time anyway. You're willing to throw this chance away because you're just afraid."

Terry didn't need Dick to tell him how much the words had stung his heart. The pain was etched on Dick's face. It was odd how he could remember all the meditations and fighting skills taught to him over the years, but not the harsh expressionless face Batman always used.

"Fine, I'm afraid." The admission seemed to drain Dick. "Is that what you wanted to hear? That I'm afraid of being rejected, of being too late, of it all being my fault for being so stupid?" Terry knelt down to Dick's level and peered into the depths of his eyes. Dick didn't seem to notice. "While back in Gotham, all I could see were the normal teens my age with their normal lives. I was envious. Sure, they had their problems, but it was obvious that their parents loved them. I knew Bruce thought of me as a son, but he just stopped showing it. Just once I wanted him to take me aside and say 'I'm proud of you. I trust you, the person you have become, with my life.' But I was still a sidekick in his eyes and he couldn't say it. He probably wanted to, but when I didn't hear it from him I started to doubt myself when I was around him. I was always just one step behind him, always the one needed saving. I didn't realize I had become just like him with his obsessive ways until I was too angry to care.

"Sharing a city we were bound to run into each other. We could work on cases together, but even then being around each other was straining. Bruce never really was a team player and he thought I had to do things on my own to prove myself. It nearly took all five years after I quit being Robin for us to even talk about my identity change, but he would always push me away in the end and I lacked the resolve to do anything but let him. It would be nice to think that that assignment was his way of apologizing, 'Gee, Dick, I trust in your abilities enough to send you on this really tough assignment all by yourself that I'm too busy to handle. When you come back victorious, which I know you will, everything will be okay again because you will have had your chance to show me up and I can stop pretending that I disowned you. Then we can be a family once more.' Of course, I could be putting words in Bruce's mouth, but it doesn't matter anyway. Somehow I managed to botch things up.

"Do you know what it's like to suffer a time warp? One minute you're out saving the world and the next your waking up in a med lab wondering what happened. And what was before was an explosion and what was after was three years on another planet, but what was between was half a lifetime and I hadn't aged a day. It's not Bruce's fault that he wasn't there, but it still hurt he couldn't find the time to tell me what happened. I was heading back to Gotham, wanting to make things right, but then I got myself captured and de-aged. Some hero, huh?"

"Hey, you must've made an impression to cause them go through all the trouble of erasing your identity in hopes of stripping you of your morals. They wanted you in that cult bad."

"Gee thanks, McGinnis."

"No problem. Listen," Terry started again, trying to draw the conversation back to their conversation. "Why haven't you told Wayne all this? He needs to hear it as much as you need to tell him."

"Because Bruce won't listen, and when he does, it doesn't come out right. We just start screeching at each other again."

"Then try again. Nothing was ever accomplished by giving up. I bet this was the first time you ever quit on anything." The wince from Dick was obvious. Terry hoped it was because the words meant something and not how pop psych 101 he sounded. Dick still shared the same views as Wayne did about life and Terry thought he could reach him. 'He's too much like Wayne for his own good,' Terry mused, unknowingly echoing everyone else who had met the two. "I know you don't want to throw away all your years of friendship over one elongated fight, but you're going to have to go back there and talk to Wayne first. I don't think he's capable of making the first move anymore."

The phone's ringing broke through the tense moment. Dick suddenly found the Wayne painting interesting again as Terry picked up. "Got anything yet?"

"You're needed. I know where they are."

"Are you sure you don't want-"

"I'm sure."

"I'm on it." He moved back towards the cave entrance, but stopped as a thought occurred. "You know, I think letting someone share in his deranged dream and letting them swinging through Gotham wearing a target sign is the only way Wayne knows how to show he cares anymore."

"Terry?" Terry turned to see the smile which first gave Robin his legend. "It wasn't always like that. It still isn't. You'll see. But thanks."

**.:BB:.**

Bruce didn't respond to Terry's distress call. Although he was in the garage portion of the cave, he could've answered it instantly. Barb hadn't checked in again, so that likely bought him more time for everything to work.

Dick would come down soon, he knew the young man couldn't stay away too long. Bruce had to finish before that happened.

He forced himself to listen to Terry describing his latest mistake, confident he was doing the right thing, but memorizing every word in case he wasn't.

**.:BB:.**


	6. Trust

Chapter 6

**.:BB:.**

"The best proof of love is trust."  
-Joyce Brothers

**.:BB:.**

If it had been forty years ago, he would've suspected something when he first found it. He would've crushed it in his gloved hand and released it into the exhaust so the wind could do with it what it thought best. He would've seen destroying it as moving a step forward without Bruce. Whether it was a reflex of a credulous nine and a half year old body or curiosity that made Dick decipher the data disk he didn't know. The why didn't seem to be important when he glanced through the information he had been left.

As the student of the Dark Knight, he had been trained to look at everything objectively. Often emotions would cloud the mind to the obvious facts. It was not the first rule Dick ignored. It wasn't that he had expected Bruce to change his ways overnight, but he could've made it less obvious that he was still controlling everything that went on in his city.

He had never actually blamed Bruce for what happened thirty-five years ago until the anger had caused him to lash out earlier, but now it was all here. Not only was there information about the cult now, but for the past one hundred years or more; information that Bruce had been collecting for about forty-five years; information that could've altered the events in Fiji.

It was one thing to throw around accusations he hadn't believed, but quite another to discover they were true. He had lost so much over so little, and yet, it seemed just another obstacle in his life that he would overcome. What hurt was Bruce hadn't told him the truth in person. Bruce had to put it on the motorcycle where he could avoid seeing Dick's reactions, as if he couldn't even admit what happened.

He had originally planned to leave again. Even a nine year old could've understood what Terry and Bruce were talking about over the phone earlier. He obviously didn't fit in anymore. It would've been the perfect time to leave with both of them distracted. As long as Dick could get past Ace he would head for Metropolis, bound to see if Superman or any other superhero needed some help. He would've done it, if he hadn't overhead Terry's distress call.

Bruce had taught him the stealth skills Dick used when he peered down into the cave. The argument that he was only taking one last look around seemed convincing at the time, but in truth, he was looking for a reason to stay. It wasn't the sound clip of Terry's voice that Dick found most disturbing, it was the fact that the cave was devoid of any life. He had been thankful for the isolation as he hacked his way into the uniform vault; if he dwelt on his actions or the questions Robin's costume raised about Tim, he would never get through the night.

The costume wasn't his anymore, but the brightly colored tunic wasn't the most important part anyway. He took what he needed to protect his identity and the gadgets which where most familiar and hopefully not modified too much. Dick didn't need any symbols to do his job; he was on a mission to retrieve Terry, not become his sidekick.

If there was one good about Bruce's obsessive nature, it was that every vehicle was in pristine working condition. Dick could trace Terry's last position on the bike that Tim had once used. He was doing all right, until he found and decoded Bruce's little gift. Reading the files, he was somewhere between rage and insane laughter.

"Dick, pick up."

The extra headset left with the disk plainly still worked.

"Dick, answer me!"

"Bastard. You set everything up. I should've realized everything was too accessible with you being mysteriously out of the cave and all. It all comes down to your control issues again."

"You should be out there."

"We both know that, I even want to be out here, but you would feel less power if I thought I had a choice in the matter. Why couldn't you have just asked me for my help?"

"The same reason that you didn't ask to borrow the mask, gloves, utility belt or the motorcycle, because we don't listen to each other."

"Don't get all mushy on me. Next time, all you really have to do is say 'Dick, Terry needs your help.' Then I'll say 'Sure, Bruce, I'm always there for you.' It will be something new for you to try."

"Dick, Terry needs - _I_ need you to help Terry."

He had learned long ago the power that words had to hurt, but had never really considered the opposite effect. It had always seemed that the saying 'actions speak louder than words' ruled the house, but to hear Bruce say those words . . . It wasn't until that moment that Dick realized he had been waiting all his career to hear that phrase. Whenever he had gone after Batman when Robin had been instructed to stay out of it, it had been his own decision. It almost became expected of him to show up at the last minute and knock out the three henchmen with the guns pointed at Batman while Batman took care of the Joker or Two-Face or whatever psycho was trying rule Gotham that night. It wasn't that Bruce wasn't grateful, but he did the exact same thing the next time the city was in danger. If that was the role of the sidekick, then he couldn't live that way anymore. Yet, even as Nightwing, Bruce managed to avoid asking directly for help. "So, do you think this one talk will fix everything?

"No, but we've got time and now we have a place to start."

". . . I think I can live with that. So . . ."

"So?"

"So how did you know that I would take the motorcycle anyway. I do feel out of place as the only vehicle with wheels."

"It was the only one where your little legs could reach the pedals."

"Oh do stop, if my self esteem gets much higher I might start acting like some rich spoiled kid. About Terry-"

"Yes?"

Dick bit his tongue on the question he was going to ask. "He hasn't broken my 'fallen into the most obvious traps' record, has he? I mean, I worked hard for that record."

"Hn. You can ask him when you both return, debrief, and replace the Robin mask you took."

Bruce had been so close to the question. "Yeah, about that - we are going to have to talk about getting me a different mask when I get back."

"What makes you think that you will ever need a new one?"

"See? There you go again-"

"What's wrong with the one you have on? Masks cost money you know; it's not like I have millions just lying around."

And it was Bruce on the line, the man who had taken a circus gypsy into his home and into his life. The man who had never attempted to replace Dick's father, but had given a little boy everything else. The man who had shared every corner and crack of a crime filled city and had give Dick a purpose. Dick was only nine, but Bruce had lost the same fifty-three years and Bruce was _Bruce _again. Dick's earlier questions about Terry and Robin became irrelevant. Their fight became irrelevant. Barb's marriage to another man became irrelevant. Dick just lost himself in the moment.

"Dick, are you there? I hope the sound of you engine idling isn't an indication that you've actually paid attention to the traffic signals for once. When you get back son, we are going to have to go over things you should learn to practice in your civilian identity and not in the middle of a rescue mission."

"Leave the quips to the pro, Bruce. I'll be there in two minutes."

**.:BB:.**

The Confessor had mentioned something about the blood sacrifice amplifying his fears, but mostly he was just annoyed. Terry wasn't sure with whom he was most annoyed.

The cult which was planning to sacrifice him seemed a good place to start. Their leader had been particularly garrulous, even for a religious nut. If the cult was finally going to do him in, they could've at least not tortured him with religious prophecies. Terry was annoyed with the cult.

Wayne had ignored his distress call, not that Terry liked to think of it as such. But for some reason, Wayne hadn't responded even though the older man would never have left the cave with Batman out. Unless something really crazy had happened and he had decided to speak with Dick. In reality, Terry could see Wayne in the cave, just listening, letting Terry feel slightly schizophrenic as he spoke to himself. Not that he doubted Wayne's ability to assist him, just that he was annoyed for not being privy to how. Terry was annoyed with Wayne.

Terry himself had fallen into a stupid trap and allowed himself to be the next sacrifice. His suit had been damaged, which hadn't made him helpless, but did incapacitate some of his abilities. His three other escape attempts had failed. Terry was annoyed with himself.

Wayne was probably letting him sweat to learn a lesson.

Or to replace him.

For the first time he felt threatened by Dick's return. Dick was the first Robin after all, and at the same physical age as when Wayne had first made him Robin. While Dick couldn't be Batman, his older self could once he was restored. Bruce and Dick had actually worked together in the field, which must've been something to be considered the Dynamic Duo. Despite their differences, despite everything Wayne had said, the older man had trusted the boy far more than was safe and for some other reason than Terry's instincts. Dick was that one piece of past which Wayne seemed to accept, and Terry wasn't sure he could compete with that.

But then the communicator beeped and Wayne's voice was again in his ear. The words were not comforting if not slightly insulting, but the gesture was.

Terry was mostly annoyed with himself for not seeing the fear behind the doubt. He hoped help would come before any more unpleasant revelations.

**.:BB:.**

Dick decided Brother Blood had watched too many Bond flicks and reacted accordingly. Somehow they had managed to build an underground lair beneath a ten story building in the middle of central Gotham and had it locked down tighter than the government watched Area 51.

"What's your position?"

"I'm on the roof. Are you sure that this is the only way in?"

"That's the only other entrance into the 'basement' that something larger than an acorn could fit through, other than the direct approach, which will be guarded more closely now."

"Okay, but do we have to start at the top? I mean couldn't I enter the duct from the ground floor instead of going down a twelve story drop?"

"Only if you can find a way through a couple feet of cement and instantaneously bypass four separate security measures on five different grids."

"Isn't an air duct stuck in the middle of concert suspicious looking in the middle of a building?"

"It's located where the stairwells would be."

"And no one ever uses the stairs?"

"It's a government building."

"Oh, well that actually doesn't explain anything. It sounds like a slightly vicious jab at bureaucracy to be honest. But that is irrelevant. What sort of goodies are protecting this duct?"

"Select side panels are sensitive to pressure."

"No problem, I'll just-"

"There are also have an updated version of infrared sensors down the entire length of the air shaft.

"Then I'll-"

"They don't show up on any of the lenses that you have."

"I can-"

"There is also an assortment of smoke detectors, light detectors, and heat sensors."

"You done?"

"Yes."

"And what happens if anything becomes activated?"

"The fan at the bottom will become active, along with motion laser guns, spikes, and a platoon of men"

"I'm going to have to have a long talk with Hollywood about making bad guys paranoid. I'm afraid to ask but, how do you know all this?"

"The original design was by Wayne Tech. It would seem that Powers didn't keep all our products off the market."

"Great, when this is done, remind me to sell any stock I have in Wayne Enterprises. You helped design this, how do I get down there without killing myself?"

"Avoid the sensors."

"Well that helps. I wouldn't have to worry about the smoke or light detectors really. The heat sensors are linked to the fan controls. According to your layouts, they get turned off when the fan is on. Is there a way you could activate that fan without sounding and alarm?"

"How are you going to avoid the fan?"

"The same way I'm going to stop myself from ending up a pancake after a twelve story fall - my Bat toys."

"And how are you planning on reaching that far?"

"You have the blueprints there, right?"

"Yes."

"And this thing doesn't have some sound detector thing, does it?"

"No."

"Then you tell me how to fall."

"Explain."

"Listen, I can't see what I'm avoiding and I don't know where I can bounce off walls, but I'm betting you can. Knowing you, you have some sort of camera so you can see what I see, and I'm betting you have more settings on the lens than I do. Not to mention that I'm probably some sort of dot on your computer screen that can be turned into some 3-D grid thing of the building as I make my decent. I don't have time to memorize the maze of traps and we don't have time to argue if we want to help Terry. It's their own fault that I'm small enough to even imagine tumbling down this thing, and they're going to regret it."

"Four feet above the fan, there is a passageway that will lead you to a pit of some sort. We will lose communication there."

"Don't worry. I'm considering on checking in this time before Terry hits his fifties."

"What is your exit route?"

"I was taught by the best, I'll figure something out."

"I'm activating the fan . . . now."

"Works for me because I just got the grate off. Boy, they don't even give you time to crawl through a stuffy cramped tunnel before the drop; it's just straight down."

"Ready?"

"When am I not?"

It was a peculiar feeling - giving complete control to someone else - Dick relying on Bruce with his life. It wasn't really Dick ricocheting off the walls and somersaulting blindly down against the wind, it was him. It was an endless video game to Dick as he reacted instantaneously to Bruce's gruff voice as it bluntly asserted abrupt, monosyllable commands into his ear. Yet, in some strange way it was comforting to know that it was Bruce behind the controls. With him there, Dick would make it.

He had expected trouble with his lighter body. Already he missed what twenty years of weight training could accomplish, but surprisingly he automatically made up the difference in speed. It became easier to breathe when he could hear the net he triggered bursting open and the reassuring sound of metal scraping as it's grappling hooks dug into the sides of the duct. Dick had been landing in safety nets since before he could walk, but it couldn't support him at his current velocity. But there was really nothing to fear when there was a whole arsenal of gadgets at his disposal. The sensors stopped a whole story before he would hit the net so they couldn't detect the spikes that were attached to Dick's gloves as he embedded them through the metal. His arms felt like they were being dragged behind a train and the metal tearing sounded worse, but it was worth it when he felt the familiar sensation of the net's snapback after it caught him.

"Yeah right! That was sure convenient."

"What is your status?"

"If you consider staring into the blades of a fan two inches from your face good, then I'm perfect. Have a talk with your engineers over creating a better system, that was too easy."

"Well, considering it was never actually on . . ."

"What-"

"Got you."

"I'm not so sure I like this humorous side of you."

"Can you reach the tunnel?"

"No problem."

"Just don't touch the bottom; they are all trap doors. You'll have to cling to the sides and the ceiling."

"My Bat-Sense is tingling."

"Bat-Sense?"

"We've got to get you out more. And I don't mean storming Evil HQ by supporting yourself between walls so you don't fall through into some bottomless pit."

"You aren't down that passageway?"

"No, I am not out of this fun house yet."

"You aren't even breathing hard."

"You know, this is why Superman works alone."

"No he doesn't. How could you forget Supergirl or Superboy, they were obnoxious enough."

"I'm nearing the end. It's a real shame that you're breaking up."

"And Dick?"

"Yes?"

"I'm expecting to see both you and Terry soon."

"You will, Bruce, you will."

**.:BB:.**


	7. Help

Chapter 7

**.:BB:.**

"I always wanted to be somebody. If I made it, it's half because I was game enough to take a lot of punishment along the way and half because there were a lot of people who cared enough to help me."  
-Althea Gibson

**.:BB:.**

'If Alfred saw this place, Mr. Clean would have to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.' Dick could understand not cleaning every year - his loft was testament to that - but even his clothes didn't smell as bad as this place. It had been apparent that this wasn't going to be the nicest smelling mission by the fumes wafting up the duct, however the stench of a dead mouse was like the aroma of baking cookies in comparison. To Dick's dismay, any decent quips he came up with were wasted in his head. 'Just once I would like to find some lunatics who made some effort to clean. How hard could it be to throw some bleach on whatever died down there?'

Unsure of what Bruce had meant when he had referred to the room at the end of the tunnel as a 'pit,' Dick had been looking for a storage area, or a computer lab, or maybe a snake pit if the designers had kept to the Henry Jones, Junior ideas; from the looks of things, Harrison Ford would've felt right at home in the demonic setting of the cave. He didn't remember anything in the Indiana Jones movies quite like the pool of blood, but it had been several years since he had watched the trilogy. He added that to his list of things to force Terry to do if he hadn't already. 'Okay, so it would take lots of bleach to clean this mess. Either this is someone the Red Cross would like to meet, or they're really obsessed with their Hawaiian Punch.' The rocks that hung from the ceilings formed gnarled human shapes - almost as if people had been fused to the walls in inexorable agony. Beyond the bridge, a movement caught Dick's eyes. The repulsive, giant skull blended in with the rest of the decor, but bizarrely, it was descending into the whirling pool.

His first instinct was to rush towards the black figure attached to one of the jagged teeth, but Dick was too aware of the emptiness of the cave; the previous time Dick had run into the cult had taught him the man behind the sect was resourceful and did nothing without a reason. Yet he had no time to contemplate the situation if he wanted to help Terry before Batman touched the blood. At least Terry looked conscious, Dick was unsure if his body would be able to catch a falling person at that angle anymore.

It was awkward swinging out from where he was wedged above the trapdoor, but the momentum eventually built up enough that Dick could land on the top of the skull. "Are you all right?"

"If you consider being sacrificed to increase Brother Blood's powers all right, then I'm perfect."

"I deserve that."

"Plus the circuitry in my suit is out."

"Then you'll have to climb up." After shooting another line onto a ledge above them, Dick slid down to Terry's side. "I could pick those locks in under a minute, but we don't have that long." A quick search in his utility belt produced four caplets.

"What are those."

"Good old fashion acid."

"Acid?"

"You'll be fine. No one will be able to notice the scars in a couple of years." It only took a few seconds after Dick placed the capsules on the restraints before Batman could wrench himself free. "I'm going to give you a Superman power trip if I don't watch it. Don't say it, let me guess. 'This is why you work alone?' "

"Now I understand why you were very . . . colorful with your Robin outfit."

"Hey, my parents designed that."

"Your parents? But I thought-"

"It was from my days as a Flying Grayson."

"Flying who? That sounds like a-"

"Circus act? You bet. Geeze, and I thought that Bruce kept me in the dark. Right after I teach you about the joys of life before rocket boosters on boots, you are in for a history lesson on the Bat Family tree." Dick turned to give Terry a hand up. "This feels like a test." Dick glanced over the teen's shoulder and watched the scull sink into the pool of blood. "Too easy otherwise. I remembered some things about them. Mostly that with these guys, things are never as they seem."

"Whatever you did, you must've ticked them off."

"How did you get caught anyway?"

"Tried the front entrance. Too many men just waiting for me. Woke up here receiving a lecture even Bruce would be proud of. This Brother Blood claims to be over seven hundred years old and that by bathing in the blood of his enemies he gains their power."

"Wow. He's had a lot of enemies to fill that pit. If it truly is his power source, you need to destroy it."

"And you will be . . . ?"

"Looking for Blood."

**.:BB:.**

This would not be the first time that he would not be able to enjoy the happiness that had crept its way into his heart; Bruce had had opportunities for contentment in the past. The irony of the situation was that when he was finally willing to accept the good consequences with the bad, he had run out of time. Positive events had always been traps to distract him from his duty and to lure him into a false sense of security. Bruce had tried to avoid them at all costs, but they seemed to search for him, to unbalance the scales, so he could once again become the target of misfortune. Bruce may have been happy, but Batman did not accept it.

This time though, he wasn't worried about the unfairness of his own life as much as those around him. He couldn't speak for them, tell them that their lives would've been better off if they had not known him. In most cases it would not be true. He would hate it if it were true. His life had been improved by their presence just like theirs had. It wasn't vanity that inspired these words, but a truth he had refused to understand before.

He would've died a hundred times over for each of them, and yet now he wondered how something so selfless could actually be so selfish. At times, death seemed merciful to the torment of those left behind, Bruce knew what it was like to face grief and his heart would not let his rest until everyone was safe from it. The need to protect everyone was what really created the Batman and it had never faded throughout his years. A dream to save everyone from pain seemed ludicrous now, but Bruce was ready to sacrifice everything for the dream to come true for three people.

Logic controlled Bruce's mind too well for him to wish to go back and try his life over. There were too many unknown variables and too many people that relied on the shadow of Gotham to protect them; it would be unfair to risk their future for his own purposes. The future, however, did not need to be guided by the past.

There was no great premonition that inspired Bruce to talk to Dick, no neon sign that pointed out that this possibly was his last opportunity to work together with the first person he had become comfortable with as an official partner. There was only a deep desire to put the repair of something other than his city first. It was the little things that his conscience bothered him about now, the insignificant statements or actions that seemed harmless at the time. Somehow Dick had always remained that scared little boy in Bruce's mind, an innocent that he could somehow preserve from future harm by locking in the cave at a safe distance, saving both of them from harm. The notion seemed to seep into their daily life. The time Poison Ivy had kidnapped Dick to ransom him to Bruce to raise her family, he had told Jim Gordon that he was worried for his _ward_; what was forgotten was his promise to Alfred that no amount of money was too great to see Dick again. Now Bruce gave up what he considered a million times more valuable than money to help his son - his pride.

Perhaps it was a coward's method of contacting Dick, but the former Dark Knight would accept any interaction over none. It was better to just hear a disconnected voice over the airwaves. Otherwise, it was too simple to connect Dick with the Robin of the past, instead of someone who had proven himself a thousand times before he even reached college.

It had seemed right with Dick being in the field instead of himself. The moment he had heard Terry in trouble, Bruce had known that the vigilante would put aside any differences and succeed in helping the current Batman. What he didn't expect was to be thrown into the middle of a situation. It was just like Dick to conger up some idiotic scheme, pull it off and deviously include some metaphorical stunt that Bruce was unable to scorn.

If it had been anyone else, Bruce would've shot down the idea. Of course there were other people capable of following orders a millisecond before the single syllable command was finished being said, but no one else he had trained with was attuned to each other enough. Both Terry and Barbara had began their training before they met the billionaire playboy and even from the very start, Tim had made a habit of questioning orders. Still, Bruce had had reservations about being the eyes on the mission. The teen who had started a new life because he thought Bruce was too dominating was momentarily giving Bruce the control he had feared loosing. Almost as if it was scripted, once Bruce was offered the power to control the situation he wanted to reject it.

Now, as Bruce fought for shallow breaths of air, he thought of those who were so close to them. He wanted nothing more than to call them back to the cave, to explain everything to them, but it was not an option. 'I don't want to be alone any longer, but what would they think? How could I ask them to believe that I didn't send them away so I could suffer alone, when I would've done so yesterday?'

**.:BB:.**

Never assume anything. The concept had been driven into his brain for - how many years? - and he still managed to overlook something. He had taken down the scattered guards that led the way to the command center and checked for any traps, tricks or security devices and anything else unexpected around him; what he forgotten to insure was that his body would not betray him. Now Dick had five guns pointed at him with little room to maneuver.

Terry hadn't wanted Dick to go off by himself, but Dick had just rolled his eyes at Batman's misplaced accusation of revenge. Dick had finally convinced the kid to set charges small enough to destroy only the cave while he made sure no one entered the area; of course, Blood would have to be captured so he wasn't hurt too badly by the explosion. The place would be rigged to blow in half an hour so Dick was to meet Terry outside in twenty minutes. He only had four of those minutes left.

Unable to find anyone in the building other than lookouts currently in the pile of in the corner, Dick had attempted to locate where Blood was hiding by hacking into the main computer when it happened. He had foolishly presumed that all the memory flashbacks would end when he had remembered his past, but apparently he was wrong. His kiss with a redheaded, green-eyed, orange-skinned girl was interrupted by a gun being cocked next to his ear.

She disappeared as quickly as she had come and he was left staring at the blinking cursor on the computer screen. Instantly disliking the way technology had progressed, Dick thought it's only redeeming value would be that his Evil Dead game would have killer graphics - if these new computers could even take CDs. He would have to sit down and find out, as soon as he took care of these gunmen.

"Before you shoot, don't you have to reveal the cult's plans?"

Seconds seemed like hours as the silence dragged on. The guns remained pointed downwards at his head and the patrol didn't even exchange looks.

"Okay, some people in this room did not have a happy childhood and it wasn't me."

"Put your hands in the air."

"It's pathetic how that line hasn't improved in thirty-five years. Wait, let me try to recall what my line is supposed to be."

"Just do it."

"That's it! 'Okay, but it's your funeral.' Who says the old lines aren't the best?"

The three objects he once held in his hand struck the ground with a clinking tone. That was Dick's signal to move. 'Took Bruce long enough to start storing gas pellets in the gloves, not that any of these geniuses would've notice me digging through my utility belt.' He had been looking forward to a good smoke screen match, a random hand or foot in the maze of confusion, but any hopes of that were annihilated when a screeching siren interrupted their fight. Instead of the entrance of the squadron Dick had prepared himself for, he opponents began a chaotic retreat from the building. No one paid a second glance to the boy perched on the table as they evacuated their fallen comrades and left Dick alone in a sea of equipment. 'This cannot be good.'

"Ahh, young Nightwing, I am pleased to see you have returned to us, although I had not planned on making my presence known at this time." The prerecorded projection managed to fool the Dick for half a second. The image of the demon-like mask and black chest-plate were enough to make anyone's blood run cold, but the awesome sight was completed by the mysterious white cape which seemed to whirl around Brother Blood in tune with its wear's mood. "You came to us a sinner, you were offered salvation but you truly came here to destroy the Church of the Brother Blood. You will fail this time as you did the last. My power has extended throughout the entire fabric of your country. Your attempts, Richard, to stop me are futile. You are nothing more than a toy, barely an adversary worth my time, but I have more important duties than to deal with the likes of you. Behold, when your body heat activated the button on the console a timer started counting down the seconds until your untimely demise."

"Oops."

"Do not struggle against the floor's power grid; not only is it holding you as my prisoner, it has effectively rendered anything mechanical useless. The Confessor's attempts to convert you have failed, but I will succeed where he has blundered. You remain a blasphemer, and for that you do not deserve the mercy of Brother Blood!"

"Sheesh, Reverend Falwell could've had this guy writing for him."

Even before the message was finished, the floor began to glow an eerie shade of blue. From where he stood, Dick could tell that Blood had wasted no expense trying to capture him, except Blood had never bothered to rig the counter. Dick would have to remember to thank whomever had inspired him to stick to the advantage point of the high ground, even though he assumed he trigged the chain reaction when he leapt upon the desk to escape the gunfire.

No clock was ticking down the seconds until Blood's promise came true. Dick would've found no reason to believe the time if it had been displayed. What mattered was making sure both he and Terry were clear. Attempting to avoid the floor, he took to the rafters. Flying between the various pipes and lights only reminded him of the trapeze and his dream. Falling, always falling; Dick found himself unintentionally pausing. He had run out of things to swing on, but it was possible for him to reach the steps, as long as he didn't fall unto the security grid.

The irrational fear had done what Blood's threats could not. A lifetime's worth of self doubt and phantasms haunted Dick's moves. 'How could I expect to escape when I barely did the last time? Who said that luck would be on my side now? I was wrong. The leap is impossible. I will fall just like my parents, and they would spin down and down and-'

Dick found the momentum that he had lost. He had never been afraid of falling before. The dream was no omen - it was a product of a child's scared imagination. Besides, he was master of the impossible, he still could do his quadruple somersault.

His legs stretched for the third step, his body almost wishing there had been more time to play around, when his body seemed to run into a wall of bricks. "Hey, I was landing there! There's a Lois Lane joke in all of this, I just know it."

"The reporter? Well, if you would rather land on all those traps, I could set you down again."

"In that case, I'm glad to see your boots are operational again. Batman can't swoop in and save everyone without them. But could they go faster since this place if going to blow?"

He could feel the hot flames tickle his back almost as soon as he had heard it. A kevlar suit would've protected him better, but Dick still was not able to wear the Robin costume, even under other clothes. The explosion hunted the two heroes through the stairwells. Dick almost missed running from the flames himself, but he had never been able to truly observe the billows of smoke and fire that trailed behind them before.

With a final burst of energy, Terry and Dick were tossed clear of the building. The blaze seemed to contain itself and all that Dick was left to do was to dust himself off and stretch. "That went rather well."

"Is this the way you normally clean up?"

"Standard villain bashing procedure." Dick clicked the button to page Bruce.

"And how did Gotham survive this long with you in it?"

"High insurance rates." Dick irrationally smacked his communicator. "That's odd, we should be getting a signal to the Cave, but no one is picking up. Bruce?"

**.:BB:.**


	8. Beginning

Chapter 8

**.:BB:.**

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."  
-T. S. Eliot

**.:BB:.**

For over forty years those thoughts and words had been building up. Barbara felt odd to have been the one to say them. Bruce might've been thick enough to let things stand, but the weight of those years had weighed heavily on her. She felt the change after she had walked away. It felt like if they were silenced now: the echoes from the past which had always ruled the cave. Those echoes would regain their voice, but she enjoyed the reprieve. She took a moment to remember the others in the silence. Alfred would never get to see his charges united. The kindly, older gentleman wouldn't have lived long enough, even if he had died from natural causes. And Tim, she wasn't supposed to know how to contact Tim, but Dick had been a mentor and a friend to Tim. Even after everything, Tim deserved to know about Dick's return. Knowing Bruce, that duty would fall to her.

She had simply been wondering the cave passages, but this particular path kept unfolding in front of her. It was almost as if the walls were herding her, stealthily lowering the ceiling, threatening to crush her forever within herself. Barbara wasn't normally a claustrophobic person, but she was hyper aware of the rocks around her. Barbara sensed she should turn back. She turned twice but never made it back to the manor. The dark unknown corners compelled her down passageways she had believed long sealed off. There was more to the cave than the med lab, the museum, and the abrupt mouth to the abyss, but Barbara had never had a reason to venture beyond her familiar surroundings. Now, she needed to know what passed beyond the masks and million-dollar equipment.

The stifled air dissipated in the cavern's beauty. Water had created sculptures that had taken millions of years to mold and the slightest human touch could forever discolor. Barbara removed her shoes to ensure the peace of the place. It felt wrong to breathe inside the chamber and she would not disrupt nature where she did not belong.

While the walk had been dark and blurry, a box of crayons could have been used to fill this room with color. Every crack on the walls was highlighted and bursting from the walls, adding to the fantastical atmosphere that resided there. But the picture was not complete until she found it's cache of secrets hidden inside the cracks. The small shrine was the first indication that she was not the first person to unveil the usefulness of the place.

She unpacked the box with the same care she would've used at a crime scene. Each object had once been a child's treasure: Dick's treasure. Some things she could only guess the significance of, and others she had helped make significant. Each item provided another piece to the puzzle and the past became clearer. Sorting through what could now be considered junk, her own experiences began to gain perspective.

She had fooled herself for too long. The daughter of the Police Commissioner and the student of the world's greatest detective should have seen the signs. Not every bruise could be covered and it be coincidental only so many times that they both had to cancel a date when the city needed saving. It had seemed natural to flirt with each other when they were Robin and Batgirl, as well as Richard and Barbara, but never acknowledged the pattern or the ease. They had both been willfully blind, but she was only beginning to understand Dick's anger when their farce was forced to end.

Maybe Dick had finally understood everything before he went off to Fiji. They had grown back together and although they each had doubts, the forgiveness had been there. She should've gone with him as backup. Saving the world from some psycho cult had been more important than even her father, but Dick had insisted on going alone. The one time she had actually listened to his instructions would take him from her.

The details of the mission and what had gone wrong were still unclear. Bruce had made it seem an effortless undercover job and so Barbara had spent more time with her father in the hospital than with Dick reviewing the mission. He had wanted to stay with her, but there was a world to be saved and neither Bruce nor Tim could leave Gotham. She had insisted he go and had sent him off believing he would return and everything would be right.

The cult of Brother Blood had somehow known about Dick and was prepared, but not even that could stop him. In some crazy stunt that only Nightwing could pull off the entire cult collapsed, but there had been a price. Barbara had never been superstitious, but she cold only describe Dick's condition as cursed. She had searched many years, but it was only after she told herself she had moved on that she finally found where Bruce had hidden away his ward. She had gone alone to the Wayne Tech hospital, unaware of what would be waiting for her. Barbara could've handled everything from scars to a coma, but instead she found nothingness. Everything vibrant and beautiful about Dick could only be seen through monitors which were tuned to another spectrum not visible to human eyes. Near as anyone could tell her he was only attached to this dimension by a thread and no one knew how to bring him back.

There was nothing real left of Dick to hold onto. The grave site was a shame and none of her senses could pick up Dick in the hospital, even when the monitors said she was next to him. And she discovered she had not moved on at all.

Replacing the cherished things, Barbara admitted to herself things she had avoided, the truths she had not finished speaking in her argument with Bruce. For the first time, she faced her past, which remained behind her with each step back towards the command center. She was lost in her thoughts with no concept of time, until she noticed the scene in the cave.

Bruce. She knew it was his heart before she reached him.

Forgetting all her training, Barbara rushed to the still figure slumped by the computer. She fought her panic and the man's dog as she frantically searched for a pulse. Bruce's calm, young voice filled her head. She remembered to breathe, then remembered her training - his training - and the emergency plans he had prepared.

**.:BB:.**

Terry was sent home from the hospital. Wayne might've lived as a recluse for decades after losing his empire to Powers, but his name still had some pull, just enough for a security detail. Commissioner Gordon had the staff updating her of his condition and managed to get visitation rights for both of them, but not until the next day. And neither of them could explain Dick. So with a not so gentile shove, Gordon pushed him out the door, reminded him of his exams, and sent him home.

He stopped by Matt's bed and pulled his sleeping brother into a firm hug until the boy squirmed away.

**.:BB:.**

Dick glared at the machines which kept Bruce alive.

"Oh, I get it. This is your own revenge. I basically die, so now you have to put me through the same thing. Well, guess what Bruce? You don't have to do all this because I know what it's like, remember?" Dick raised his voice hoping for any response. "You know, if you go through with this I will hate you for the rest of my life; which looks like it might be a long time."

Dick doubted anyone would be convinced he was angry while his voice cracked and his eyes were teary. His fingers itched to tug at gauntlets which he wasn't wearing, a habit Bruce had trained out of him about his body's age. He wasn't quite sure what he hoped to accomplish by pretending to be angry with Bruce, mostly hoping Bruce would wake up and be angry in return. It was the easy, comfortable way of approaching the situation. But easy was never that comfortable for him.

"I'm not sure who I'm supposed to be angry at anyway. Old age? Time? That's hardly something to be angry at, and we both know unfocused anger is useless. You taught me that, although Terry seems a little lost on that now. He's out there with Barb now. Don't know exactly what happened in his past - I could make a pretty good guess - but he wants to go beat up somebody for this. Well, probably the staff for not allowing him in. I was smart enough not to wait for permission I knew I wasn't going to be granted.

"Barb is talking to him. She's quite good at that sort of thing, in case you hadn't noticed. She's good at a lot of things. Our little Batgirl, Police Commissioner, who would've thought? I've missed out on so much, I abandoned her through the best and worst times of her life and yet she hasn't held it against me. Or if she has, she's better at acting then I am. She's somehow managed to hold it all together, even though losing you would be like losing her father again. I don't know what happened to Jim Gordon, but I know she was suffering when I left those years ago. She doesn't know how to let you go, and neither do I. Not even Ace does."

Dick paused as one of the guards shifted outside the door. A minute later the man returned to his magazine he was reading instead of doing instead of his job.

"May be Ace sensed it too - down in the cave - it wasn't the same. Nothing was physically wrong with the place, but it felt," Dick groped for the right word, "strange. The air didn't seem as weighted, as if some huge burden had been lifted; the bats were still; the cave had lost something. It was empty feeling, but it was finally free. I can't explain it, but it's almost as if the past finally released the place and stopped it's perpetual reminders. The museum seemed to have had lost it's significance even before we found Barb's note in the cave. How she managed to get you here is a mystery to me, but we can guilt it out of her together. Just like old times.

"I really miss everyone now - Tim, Alfred, Doctor Leslie - especially Doctor Leslie now. I think I must be allergic to hospitals or something. If she was around, we wouldn't be here. We could be at home, safe from everyone and everything. Tucked away neatly in our own little world. But I'm being selfish. Of course things are going to change when you are gone, but it still kind of hurts. It's almost like I'm George Bailey and you've just pointed out to me that 'It's a wonderful life,' yet I don't get to go back and live what I missed. What good is being ten again when you have no one else to share it with?"

He recognized he was losing focus if he was comparing himself to Christmas movies. Bruce had indulged his Christmas movie marathons as a child, though Dick remembered it had taken until the year Joker tried that _Christmas With the Joker_ scheme to get Bruce past the title of _It's a Wonderful Life_. As an adult, Dick had learned those movies had actually saddened his mentor because of how much Bruce was still that lonely boy his first Christmas without his parents. But Bruce had never said no to the movies, even while Dick was in college.

"When I was in the park this morning it was you who got me out of there alive. I was only beginning to remember bits and pieces of my training, but I don't think I could've gotten out of there if you hadn't shown up. Or at least what looked like you. Only with a worse taste in ties. Or should I say without an Alfred to give him a decent taste in ties.

"I had a point." Dick paused.

"If it wasn't for you, I who knows what I might have done. Strange to give any credit to your evil twin since he wanted to destroy me, but you aren't like that. I might have doubted you for a second if I hadn't known the type of character that drives you. No one is infallible Bruce, but you are not cut out to be a gun wielding maniac. What the Cult of the Brother Blood had used in hopes of driving me to them, now only makes me wish he had made the attempts sooner so I could have this revelation forty years ago.

"So Blood got away again. I couldn't even tell you if he was ever there. I won't be able to tell you probably even with the most through investigation. I've made quite a habit out of leaving the scene in ruins, haven't I? Some philosopher might find some symbolic meaning behind that, but all that thinking just makes my little head hurt.

"It's probably a good thing I'm not wasting my time thinking. Then I might get suspicious of your last minute call, but I know you didn't just want to make amends only because of your heart problems. Did I ever tell you that I do not blame you for anything? Except for instilling the desire to fight crime and corruption and never to swerve from the path of justice. That was all you, and I loved almost every minute of it."

Dick gripped Bruce's left hand with both of his. He told himself it was to keep from pulling at imaginary gauntlets.

"A horrible thought occurred to me: this sounds too much like a funeral speech. The sad thing would be that I couldn't even say any of this stuff there. I doubt if your d-" Dick bit his tongue to keep from stuttering, "death could be kept a secret, and who would want to see some random kid talk? It's not like they have seen me before. They can't know what really happened. That would bring up too many questions. So I would be stuck listening to everyone else share their stories but me. I'm not looking forward to the day, but the least I could do for you was to speak at your" Dick had to close his eyes as he said the word, "funeral. So, if I'm allowed to be petty for a minute, you can't die until I am old enough to handle it. I've found I don't just look like I'm nine-and-a-half, but I feel like it sometimes. Pain doesn't lessen with age, but I'm not sure how many more emotions this body can handle. I can be thinking perfectly rationally, but right now all I want to do is stomp around the room until I get my way.

"Of course, you would argue I was like that in my twenties too."

Dick's brief grin vanished. "Who am I Bruce? Am I stuck in my adolescence, my twenties or am I older than that? How do I suddenly explain my appearance to the world? Where will I live? How much longer will I be stuck living a life that isn't mine? How can anything be put into perspective without you?"

He didn't like sounding desperate, almost anything was better than that. "Okay, so I lied to you a couple minutes ago. What I meant was now I don't condemn you for anything. I don't think I really hated you back then either. I could tell you what I was thinking, but admitting it to you - even like this - is hard. But I think you know and it might've made you regret ever taking me in, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for tons of things during that time, but dwelling on that will change nothing. I hope I never made you regret letting me run around as your partner. It meant everything to me and I just threw it all away. I needed the change, but I could've done it better. Those years of fighting each other were such a waste and this is the first chance we would have of fixing everything, so now I'm stuck with this guilt.

"It seems kind of fair after all those years. I know you felt horrible because of the life threatening situations that I put myself in. See, I admit it now: I put myself in peril. One could even argue that you tried to prevent me from getting myself hurt by leaving me in the cave, but that's a topic I don't want to get into right now. But have you ever stopped to think that I wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for you? And I'm not talking about the times where I ended up in some fiendish plot as bait; I wouldn't be alive now if you hadn't jumped in the river after I fell in. You couldn't gotten Zucco so easily if I hadn't botched things up, but you saved me instead. When I first lost my memory, the last thing on my mind was you keeping me from being lost under the current. You meant the world to me, and nothing anyone else could ever do would take that away.

"And since you dragged it out of me, you mean a whole lot more than that now."

**.:BB:.**

The Beginning

**.:BB:.**

This story is followed by _Piercing Whispers_.

I owe tons of people my thanks:  
*Coie - my wonderful sister and editor.  
*Becky and Amanda - the writers of _Ancient History_, the first part of their excellent story was my inspiration to write my own version.  
*The creators of all the characters, because Bob Kane has to be wondering what the fuck we've all done with his happy, carefree Batman and Robin.  
*Writers in the fanon, for lots of ideas of Dick's childhood.  
*The obsessed people who put up Batman Beyond sites so people who know practically nothing about the show can learn enough to write a fanfic.  
*Anyone who has given me feedback during this time, especially Syl who forced me to work on my own story when I was ready to quit.


End file.
